


The Journey

by Jacqueline_64



Series: Post Sweet Revenge Series [2]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Adjusting, Angst, Caregiver, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Injury Recovery, Post-Episode: s04e22 Sweet Revenge, setbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 00:04:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 48,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacqueline_64/pseuds/Jacqueline_64
Summary: Scenes from Starsky's long hard road to recovery after the Gunther attack, and how this journey affects everyone around him as well.





	1. WELCOME TO YOUR LIFE

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The muse inspired me on several post Sweet Revenge stories. Just not in chronological order. So, when you look at the dates that the stories were completed and/or published for the first time, that date is not their spot in the timeline between the stories. Some of the stories were written over a long period of time, up to a year. Others were finished within days. The muse was very fickle.  
This second story of the series was the third story started, but the last story finished of the five in the post Sweet Revenge series.
> 
> 2\. Different from the "literary liberties" I've taken with the characters ages in my pre-pilot "Me and Thee"-series, I originally had the characters Starsky and Hutch be the same age as the actors who played them in this, my Post Sweet Revenge-series. However, in season four's episode "Starsky's brother" Nick Starsky says he's 28 (in 1979) and that Dave Starsky is "a couple of years older".  
The actor PMG of course was 36 in 1979, and I personally don't believe the brothers differed 8 years in age.  
Therefore, in this series, I've decided to stick to the age difference between the Starsky brothers as I have in  
the "Me and Thee"-series i.e. 4 years, making Starsky 32 in 1979, 4 years younger than the actor who played him.  
I hope you all can forgive me for taking this literary liberty..............
> 
> 3\. Point of view is never my strong suit, however in this series I purposely switched between S&H's point of view often during chapters, just to "stay in the moment" and show how they both experienced one and the same situation.

The most used disclaimer:  
The TV show "Starsky and Hutch", and the characters from it  
are the property of the persons who hold the copyrights  
and other legal rights to them.  
This story is a work of fiction, written for pleasure only  
and not for profit. It is not intended, in any way,  
to infringe on these preexisting copyrights.

# "THE JOURNEY"

Scenes From A Long Hard Road To Recovery  
A Post Sweet Revenge Story

By Jacqueline © March 2002 - August 2003

## WELCOME TO YOUR LIFE

He was pulled from his safe haven of deep sleep by an odd sound.   
It wasn't until his mind began to clear that he realized it was the sound of his own voice, moaning softly.   
And it wasn't until he realized **he** was the source of the sound that the reason for his moaning struck him like a blow.

PAIN.  
_Man, this hurts_, was his first, conscious, thought. He took shallow breaths, trying to ignore the feeling that legions of tiny men were attacking his body with equally tiny, but vicious, knives. One battalion was hacking into his back with a vengeance, while another team seemed to be working from the inside out, as if they were trying to slice his right lung to filet.   
_C'mon fellas, give a guy a break! Okay, slow breaths ---- slow breaths---_.   
As taught by Moses, he managed to tune out the pain somewhat.

Then, as his eyes adjusted to the light in the darkened room, he realized he wasn't in the hospital anymore.  
Despite his serious discomfort, he smiled.   
_I made it! I'm really home! Everything's gonna work out--- What's that smell? --- That's terrific!  
_The knowledge that he was finally back in his own apartment combined with the fact that the wonderful aromas he was inhaling were already making his mouth water, caused him to temporarily forget his pain and he tried a little too enthusiastically to pull away his blanket. That was a big mistake. A sharp jab of pain shot right through his back and his lung, leaving him gasping for air.  
_Terrific --- I guess they forgot to remove the bullet that took out my brain!_

He lay back and waited until the pain subsided and his breathing returned to normal. His eyes searched the room for the remote that controlled the bed's hydraulic system, but to no avail.  
_How the hell am I gonna get outta here?_ he asked himself.   
Then he remembered that even as recently as this morning, his last in the hospital, it had taken the assistance of a bulky orderly to get him out of his bed.  
He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes again.  
_Might as well try to get a bit more shut-eye ---_   
"Shut up!" he scolded absently at his growling stomach while his mind drifted back into oblivion again.

\-------------------------------

Hutch returned to Starsky's from a visit to his own apartment where he picked up some last items he would need during his stay at his partner's home. He had also gone by the station to finish some paperwork before beginning his 'personal time', helping Rachel Starsky take care of her son and his best friend. 

As he closed the front door behind him, he was greeted by a heavenly smell from the kitchen. Rachel had obviously started dinner already.

"Smells terrific!" Hutch said, smiling warmly at his partner's mother.

"Thank you - I just hope it'll taste as good. I think I forgot to put somethin' in, but for the life of me I can't remember what," Rachel answered, her eyes wandering over all the labels of the spices on the shelf.

"Anything that smells **this** good can't possibly taste bad," Hutch assured her.   
He looked at the kitchen clock.  
"Did he take his pain medication yet?"

"No, didn't Moses say he should take it at fi--- Oh, God! I forgot to check the time," Rachel looked at the clock in shock.  
"Do ya think he --- ? Could you, Hutch?"

Hutch patted Rachel's arm.   
"Sure."

He grabbed one of the many bottles that were lined up on top of the refrigerator and read the label.  
"One pill every 4 hours, maximum dose 6 per day. Not to be taken on an empty stomach. Dissolve in one half glass of water. Okay."  
Hutch filled a glass halfway with water and looked around for something edible, to pad the inside of Starsky's stomach, thereby cushioning the effects of the painkiller.

Rachel took out the cake she had baked while Hutch was away.  
"It's still warm, I just got it out of the oven a few minutes ago."

"You must've started on that the second I closed the door behind me," Hutch said, surprised.

"Just about." Rachel sighed while slicing the cake and putting it on a plate.  
"The house was so quiet. I didn't even dare turn the TV on. I just want him to be as comfortable as possible, ya know?"

Hutch looked down at his feet and nodded wearily.  
"Yeah, I know," he practically whispered.

Just outside Starsky's bedroom door Hutch paused for a moment before entering.  
He remembered all the advice the medical staff at Memorial had given him and Rachel on caring for Starsky. _Stay calm --- follow his lead. Help him when he asks for help, not before-- except when he's in obvious need of help, and even in that case, don't help him without his consent._  
Straightening his back, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

Starsky was just beginning to stir again when Hutch entered the room.  
He put the glass and the cake on the nightstand and walked to the window to open the blinds. Approaching the bed again, he softly said,  
"Wake up, Starsk. Time for your pill."   
He gently rubbed Starsky's arm.  
"Come on, buddy."

After a few seconds Starsky opened his eyes and squinted up at Hutch.  
"What took ya so long?" he croaked, mischief already twinkling in his eyes despite him not being fully awake yet.

Hutch half sighed, half chuckled and shook his head.  
"Well, I had to get you your surprise first, now didn't I?"

Starsky was immediately alert.  
"Surprise?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room.

"Yeah, that's right. You ready for me to raise your bed?"

Still inhaling the wonderful aroma that caused his stomach to yearn for food when he woke up earlier, Starsky was quick to nod in assent.

Hutch grabbed the remote and pushed the button. Quietly the bed rose to a seated position. The change in posture resulted in an expression of serious discomfort on Starsky's face, which was enough for Hutch to almost feel guilty for putting his best friend through this.  
"You okay?" Hutch bit his lower lip as soon as the words left his mouth.   
_Don't hover --- don't 'mother hen' him too much --- back off!_

Starsky took quick, shallow breaths, obviously willing the pain away.  
"Yeah --- I'm fine --- where's the surprise?" he croaked, a glimmer of the old Starsky sparkle evident in pain-filled eyes.

Hutch relaxed a little and couldn't resist grinning.   
_The pain is practically knocking him out, but the mention of a 'surprise' is enough to keep him going. Always a five-year old, huh, Starsk?_ Shaking his head he said  
"Here you go," and presented Starsky with his cake.

"**That's** the surprise?" Starsky was less enthusiastic now.

"Well, you have to eat something before you can take your pill," Hutch replied.

"**I** know **that**!" Starsky answered with rightful indignation.  
"But that's **not** what I'm smellin'."

"What you're smelling is the dinner your mom's already started. But that's for later. Right now you need to eat this wonderful cake she baked so you can take your pill."

"And spoil my appetite? Nah, no way. Not the way dinner smells! Just gimme the pill," Starsky hammered on, holding his hand out for the glass.

"Uh-- uh," Hutch maintained,  
"Cake first, then your pill. That's the procedure."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Hutch! Will ya just gi--" Starsky's tirade stopped abruptly as he was cut off mid-sentence by the same, sharp stabbing pain that had prevented him from getting out of bed earlier.

Hutch flinched, mirroring his partner's agony, as if he could physically feel the same pain.  
"Okay, settle down --- take it easy. Take it easy."

Hutch talked to his partner in a slow, soothing rhythm almost willing Starsky to adjust his breathing to the tempo of his voice.   
When the pain slowly began to subside, Hutch quietly said,  
"Well, you are in pain, aren't you?"

"Brilliant deduction, Holmes," Starsky croaked.

"No, since it's a quote by Sherlock himself, that would be Watson, which would make **you** Holmes," Hutch smiled despite the tension that was still apparent in the room.

"Whatever," Starsky replied, his voice slowly returning to normal.

"So, you're in pain and you probably want some relief from that, right?" Hutch went on.

"Hutch, what the hell are ya doin'? I'm not exactly in the mood for party tricks --- "   
Starsky coughed once, while holding his chest,  
"--- or twenty questions for that matter. What's your point?"

"The point is that you can't have this pill to relieve some of that pain unless you've padded your insides with something solid, like this wonderful cake your mom baked you. Got it **now**, Sunshine?"

Starsky glared up at Hutch, then sighed heavily and took the plate from his partner. He managed to finish the cake, then quickly swallowed the contents of the glass.

"Okay, great. Now, do you want to stay in bed, or do you want to get out already?"

"What time is it again?"

"A little past five." Hutch waited patiently while Starsky contemplated his actions.

"Okay, let's go."

"So you want to get up?"

"What did I just say? Just give me a minute."   
Starsky slowly and carefully maneuvered around in the bed, trying to untangle himself from the blankets and sheets.

Hutch could tell the whole exercise was taking a lot out of his partner.  
"You want me to give you a hand with that?" he softly inquired.

Starsky didn't look at Hutch but he realized he obviously was getting nowhere with his feeble attempts to free himself. Besides that, it also became urgently clear to him that the glass of water had filled the last empty spot in his bladder. So, he nodded his head and let Hutch clear the blankets away so he could swing his legs over the side of the bed.

_Oh, God._  
Inside Hutch cringed at the sight of his otherwise so agile partner, moving around like a senior citizen. He had seen it before, but that was in the hospital. Somehow he had expected Starsky to be more self-reliant once he was back home.

To cover his shock, he quickly put Starsky's slippers in place so his friend would be able to just step into them.   
Hutch's gesture was way ahead of Starsky's actions, though. Starsky only got as far as the edge of the bed where he now sat panting, trying to steady himself with both hands. After a few moments he continued his actions to get out of bed. Ever so slowly his feet found his slippers and ever so slowly he pushed himself up to a standing position. Swaying slightly, he fought to maintain his balance.

"What do you -- what can I do now?" Hutch asked, insecurely -- forgetting all the instructions he'd received from the hospital staff.

"Well, as I see it I don't care how ya do it, but I'm in serious need of some relief."

"You what?"

"Y're talkin' to a drownin' man, Hutch," Starsky sounded serious.

"I think that glass 'a' water was the last drop that broke the camel's back," he continued, the look in his eyes unwavering as he tried to convey the urgency of the situation.

Despite the mixed up proverbs that Starsky had uttered, the coin dropped on Hutch and he carefully steadied his wobbly friend on his way to the bathroom. And right on this first day of caring for Starsky, Hutch was faced with the harsh reality that was now his partner's life.  
There were certain things, certain intimate things, that he would be unable to do for himself, at least for now. And this was one of them.

As they arrived in front of the toilet, both men were initially overcome with a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort.  
Being the more practical of the two and being in 'high need' Starsky quickly dismissed the awkwardness of the situation and talked his partner through it.  
"I think I'd better do this sittin' down, Hutch," he said and Hutch immediately helped him closer to the bowl to assist him sitting down.

"Well, wait a minute! Ya don't want me ta wet my pants now do ya?" Starsky actually chuckled.

Blushing, Hutch moved one hand towards the waistband of Starsky's pajamas, while holding on to Starsky with the other for support.  
"Nah, **I'll** do it, I'll do it. Just hold on to me," Starsky offered.

Finally Hutch eased him down on the seat, and not a moment too soon.   
This first trip to the bathroom the partners had to take together was a very close call.

Seated on the toilet Starsky looked up at Hutch.  
"Hey?"

Hutch couldn't help himself. This little trip to the bathroom had just about devastated him.  
_Oh my God, Starsk. Massive damage; no kidding --- will you ever heal again?_   
He swallowed hard against the moisture in his eyes. When he felt enough in control of his emotions, his sad sky blue eyes found the face of his partner. In a soft voice he replied,  
"Yeah?"

"Ya don't **hafta** do this, Hutch. I'll understand. I can still switch to a nurse -- I don't mind."

Starsky's words threw him right back to the edge of the abyss. He took several deep breaths before answering in a hoarse voice.  
"It's not a matter of '**having** to do this' as if it were an obligation, Starsk.  
I only '**have**' to do this for myself, for you, for **us**. I **want** to do this. I **need** to."   
He smiled wearily at Starsky.  
"Doctor's orders, remember?"

"Since when did you start listening to La Rue? I always thought ya said he was full of crap."

Hutch smiled shyly and shuffled his feet. The fact of the matter was, he and his partner had seen each other countless times in the buff, at the Academy, the police station and gym showers, or in a hospital. But suddenly seeing parts of Starsky's anatomy, naked, and in the intimacy of his own apartment, felt odd.

Meanwhile Rachel had set the dinner table and called out from the kitchen, her voice easily reaching the bathroom,  
"Dinner in five minutes, boys. Get it while it's still warm!"

The partners smiled at each other. Hutch offered his hands so Starsky could pull himself up.

"And don't forget to wash your hands!" Rachel's voice called sternly.

Looking down at his hands, as he pulled up his pajama bottoms, Starsky made a face. The partners looked at each other.

"Listen to your mother!" Hutch admonished.

They both chuckled and like two little boys washed their hands thoroughly before leaving the bathroom.  
While supporting his partner the reality of the situation once again hit Hutch like an anvil.  
Starsky was moving slowly, unsteadily.

Hutch was pulled from his thoughts by Starsky's glare.  
"Uhm --- y--- you want to walk to the living room or -- or should I get the wheelchair?" he asked, insecurely.

Starsky contemplated for a moment, shook off Hutch's supporting grip and shuffled his left foot a few inches ahead. Weakly, his right foot followed and after that he moved his left foot again.  
"Nah --- **I've** got it. I'll walk," Starsky answered.

Moving like a bent, elderly person, the once swift and powerful characteristic Starsky swagger was now reduced to a slow, unsure and wobbly shuffle. His arms often reaching to the side for balance or to find support from a piece of furniture, or wall. Hutch stood nailed to the floor. His stomach landed somewhere in his shoes, his heart pounded so fast he could actually hear it banging loudly in his head. He was only able to move when Starsky almost tripped over the threshold. Coming up quickly behind his friend, he caught his elbow, causing Starsky to give him a surprised look.

"Are **you** all right?" Starsky asked, confusing Hutch.

"Am I **what**?"

"Are you all right? Ya look like y've seen a ghost!" Starsky said, apparently unconcerned with his near fall.

"I'm --- I'm fine, I, I just ---"

"C'mon Blondie, race ya to the dinner table," Starsky said, a crooked grin outlining the corners of his mouth.

At first, Hutch looked incredulously at Starsky, then broke out smiling too while shaking his head.  
"Yeah, yeah, all talk, no action," he finally said.

"In your dreams!" Starsky answered and released himself from Hutch's grip.   
He straightened slightly and, as he walked further into the room, each new step seemed more confident than the last.

"Don't overdo it, Starsk!" Hutch called out to him, filled with a mixture of worry and pride.

Starsky just cackled while carefully moving his arms impersonating a chicken, which is exactly what he thought Hutch was acting like at this moment.

Rachel watched the antics of her son and his partner and her heart warmed inside.   
Her brave little boy, now a brave man, and his patient, loyal partner.  
She had prepared Starsky's favorite, the Paul Muni Special and sure enough, Starsky did not need much tempting to help himself to a fair share of it.  
He kept it all down, too, much to everyone's surprise, but most of all his own.

At 9:00 p.m. Starsky didn't protest when Hutch mentioned he looked tired and should call it a night. He knew his partner was right and after taking a last dose of his painkillers, he even accepted Hutch supporting him again, as he made his way back to his room.

After a final trip to the bathroom, Hutch helped Starsky get comfortable in bed and asked,  
"So, how was your day, partner? How does it feel to be back home?"

Breathing heavily, Starsky looked up at his partner while he found the most comfortable position he could in his bed.  
"Ya know somethin'? It's still like a dream. Not just coming home but before, too -- ya know? The whole shooting thing --- still seems so unreal."

He sighed while looking up at the ceiling.  
"I can't believe it's been two months. Hell, I still can't believe it really happened at all. I feel like I'm somewhere in the Twilight Zone, ya know? Like someone's gonna wake me up any minute now and it'll all have just been some kinda dream."

Hutch nodded his head silently.   
He, too, still had to come to grips with the monumental reality the shooting had forced them to face.  
Mortality.   
Vulnerability.   
Reality.   
The here and now.  
Those were just a few themes they would have to come to terms with in the weeks and months ahead.

"But --" Starsky continued with a sigh,  
"-- it **did** happen, whether we believe it or not, so I guess we just gotta take it from here. Gotta put one foot in front of the other --- just keep goin'."  
When he looked at Hutch he could see his partner nodding his head in agreement with moist eyes.  
Starsky patted Hutch's arm and softly said,  
"We'll make it, **you'll** see. 'S gonna be all right," he winked at Hutch.

"Sure," Hutch could only whisper his reply. Then he adjusted the covers around his brave partner before quietly asking,  
"You all right like this?"

"Yeah," Starsky replied softly.  
"Get some rest, Hutch. We all need it. See ya tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Okay --- 'night, buddy," Hutch whispered in return. He patted the blanket that covered Starsky and left the room.

Leaning his head back, Hutch rested his weary body against the bedroom door and closed his eyes. The first of many long and tiring days had past. There were many more to come, but this was just the first step down the road, of what would in all likelihood turn out to be, a very long journey.


	2. A NEW REALITY

## A NEW REALITY

Exhausted as he was by the events on homecoming day, Starsky had slept all through the night. But now the sun was peeking through the cracks of the blinds and the general soreness of his body woke him.   
He could hear sounds coming from elsewhere in his apartment and figured that either his mother or Hutch or the both of them were already awake.  
Having no idea what time it was, he tried to turn fully on his side to be able to see his alarm clock.  
_Shit ----- this doesn't feel right -----_  
The all too present ache that covered his entire body made him stop his attempt.  
Instead he just reached over to his nightstand and pulled the cord of the alarm, wanting to turn the clock to face him. In the process he knocked his glass of water off the nightstand.

_Oh, terrific!_ he thought, then was startled as the door to his bedroom swung open and an anxious looking Hutch appeared in the doorway.

"Mornin'!" Starsky croaked cheerfully, but his partner wasn't amused.

"Are you okay?" Hutch asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little clumsy. Knocked over the water. What time is it?"

"It's uh -- it's a little after eight."   
Hutch's eyes found his.

Instantly, guilt washed over Starsky as he witnessed the concern in his partner's eyes.  
_He's gotta relax! If he's gonna jump outta his skin each time I trip, he's gonna kill himself.  
_"Hey, it was just a glass of water, okay? I'm doin' **fine**, don't worry."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm --- I'm sorry."  
Hutch knelt down by the bed and took care of the glass, which miraculously was still in one piece.

"Don't apologize, 's all right."  
Starsky pushed his blankets back and wanted to sit up. The imaginary truck that was parked on his chest caused an all too real pain that made him stop short. He quickly acquiesced to the situation.  
"Is it time for my pill yet? I don't think I'm gonna get into first gear without it" he stated matter of factly.

Hutch, still looking too worried and still sounding too contained, answered,  
"I'll get you a glass of water. Be right back," and left the room.

"Hey, Hutch? On second thought, I'll take it after breakfast!" Starsky called after his friend, not feeling up to eating twice in a short span of time.

Hutch doubled back into the bedroom, but not before getting the wheelchair to make the trip to the breakfast table easier for Starsky's hurting body. Mornings were always the worst.

_Can't hide nothing from ya, can I buddy?_ Starsky thought. At the same time he wondered how bad he must look for his partner to not take any chances.

"What do you -- you want me to give you a hand?" Hutch asked insecurely.

_Oh, what the hell, I really need to take a leak!_ Starsky pushed the remote of his bed and slowly the bed rose to a seated position. As he rose, a second truck parked on his chest, making his breathing heavier and more labored.  
"What's next? A whole damned truck stop?" Starsky mumbled to himself.

"What's that?" Hutch asked.

"Nuthin'" he grunted.

"You okay?" Hutch inquired worriedly.

"Yeah." More breath than word.

"All right, what do you want me to do now?" Hutch asked.

Starsky pointed towards the bathroom. Once they'd arrived there, the entire morning ritual of the day before played itself out again, in silence this time.

After they finished in the bathroom, Starsky again preferred walking to the table where Rachel was already setting out breakfast. Clenching his jaw against the excruciating pain in his body, he carefully made his way to a seat. The conversation during breakfast was light, superficial and perhaps even evasive. None of the people at the table seemed in any way ready to address life's new realities.

After breakfast, Starsky decided against washing up before his physical therapy, so he only had to change into his sweats to get ready before Moses would arrive. Already feeling like he was burdening Hutch too much, Starsky asked for the wheelchair. Once seated in it, he moved forward by pedaling his feet and steering the wheels with his hands.   
Hutch followed Starsky to his bedroom.  
As soon as he noticed his partner, Starsky looked up at him and asked,  
"What?"

"Well, you want to change, don't you?"

"Yeah, so?"

Hutch made a face.  
"How were you going to do that? Huh?"

"**I** can do it!" Starsky protested.

"Starsk ---"

"Why dontcha go help mom with the breakfast dishes, huh?"

"I will, in a minute." Hutch got out Starsky's sweats and placed them on the bed.  
"Here you go."

"Okay, thanks." Starsky sat and waited for Hutch to leave.  
"**You** can go now, I'm fine."

Hutch rolled his eyes.  
"Okay, wisenheimer, put on those sweats."

"Hutch, I'll be **fine**. Go on, give my mother a hand."

"Show me, Gordo!"

Starsky didn't have a reply for that. _You've picked one helluva time to play bad cop, partner. Sheesh, only day two and his mother hen mode is already in overdrive. He's not going to last long if he stays this intense -- _With a sheepish expression on his face Starsky plucked at his sweat pants. Then a new tactic occurred to him.

"Why don't you go do the dishes and send my mom out here, huh? **She'll **give me a hand."

Hutch knew he’d been out-maneuvered. The look on his face clearly told Starsky he was being a smart-ass.  
"Okay."

Minutes later Rachel Starsky entered the bedroom and found her son fumbling with the buttons on his pajama top, his fine motor skills still not up to par.  
"Here, let me undo those for you," she said resolutely.  
Realizing his current compromised condition, Starsky dropped his hands and let his mother help him.

"Dave," Rachel started, "Ken is about the best friend a person can have. I know that, and you certainly know that."

"Ma ---" Starsky protested.

"I'm still talkin', Davey, hear me out," his mother continued.  
"Now, God knows this is a hard time for all of us. But ya **gotta** swallow that pride of yours or else you'll **never** get back on your feet again. This is only your first full day out of the hospital sweetheart! Nobody expects ya to be able to do things for yourself. In fact, Dr. Jamison told ya you should take things easy and let people help you!"

"**I** know **that**! I don't got a problem with that! But I'm just thinkin' that maybe it ain't such a smart idea to have Hutch help me out around the house."

"Why not? He's the best friend ya got!"

"Maybe **that's** why, ma! I'm kinda worried --- I, I mean --- what if ---" Starsky looked with pleading eyes at his mother.

"What, sweetheart?"

"What if his carin' for me will change our friendship? What if he never stops being the caregiver, even after I'm back to bein' myself? He's got that mother hen thing inside him and I'm afraid it's gonna run rampant once he's too settled in it."

"I'm sure Ken will know his limits once you've made them clear to him. He's not an idiot, ya know!"

"Yeah, well, ya don't know him the way **I** do. I **gotta** let him know not to worry too much. Things'll be all right in **no** time -- the more he'll let me do the sooner we'll get through this and we can pick up where we left off."

Rachel had finished unbuttoning her son's pajama top and helped him take it off. Inside she understood exactly how hard this new dependency must be on her son, but just watching him now she understood just as well that his overly optimistic view of his future might soon need some serious adjusting.

"Pants," she said and waited patiently to see to which action that command would inspire her son.

Starsky pushed himself to a standing position and pulled down his pajama bottoms as far as possible. Then he sat back down to take the pants off. The whole exercise caused him to perspire and breathe heavily.

Once Starsky had removed his pants, Rachel quickly put his feet through the legs of his sweat suit and helped him to put the pants on properly while saying,  
"That day is still a long ways off, sweetheart. It'll come -- but not tomorrow or next week even and **you **know that as well as we do. So, why don't ya stop floatin' and come down to reality? It's gonna be **long**, it's gonna be **hard** and it's gonna be **painful**, but eventually, you might just be all right. And until then, you've **got** to let people help ya, ya hear?"

"That's what I love about ya, ma," Starsky said as the doorbell rang,  
"Your bedside manner!" He made a face at his mother only to get it returned with a smirk.

Moses had arrived and soon Starsky was having his PT session in his bedroom while Hutch and Rachel cleaned up the morning mess.

\--------------------------

"Just a little further -- little more, a little more --- "

Even though they were busy in the kitchen, both Rachel and Hutch could hear Moses urging Starsky on.

"Ow, ooooh --- no -- I -- I can't --- WHOA!! Ow, Mo --- no really, man. No more." Starsky's pained voice sounded.

"We gotta make it an even ten, Dave. Three more. Come on, **you **can do it," Moses encouraged.

Hutch couldn't tune out the moans and groans coming from Starsky's bedroom.   
Every time his partner's voice strained like that, attesting to the pain the exercises put him through, Hutch cringed inside. He looked at Rachel.

"I know ----," she said, understanding what must be bothering this blond, sensitive man.  
"It's hard to listen to --- but he needs it, Ken. He needs it. **You **know Moses is the best?"

Hutch silently nodded his head, but the sounds of his partner's agony cut through him like a knife. So, after yet another outcry from Starsky, he exchanged one more look with Rachel and put the plates into the cupboard before walking over to his partner's bedroom.   
He stood with his ear glued to the door, frozen in place as he listened to the low, guttural sounds coming from his partner.

"Fantastic! You **did** it my man! A new record. High five!" Hutch heard Moses exclaim. The joy was short lived as an agonizing groan came from Starsky.

"OOOooooowwww, cramp --- cramp!"

"Okay, where? I'll take it away, just point to where it is," Moses sounded alert and professional now.

Hutch couldn't resist and cracked the bedroom door open a tiny bit to peek in. He could see Starsky lying on his stomach on the exercise mat, flushed and obviously in pain while Moses was massaging Starsky's spinal area.

"Just a minute, it's easing up, almost there, just a bit more --- I can feel it go, Dave."

Starsky, however, still seemed in extreme agony and his voice was breaking in short, hard gasps.  
"Ooooowwwwwwww, this is a bitch ---- take it **AWAY**, Mo ---- do something! Make it stop!"

"Just a minute more, concentrate on your breathing --- almost done," Moses talked in a reassuring tone now, while kneading Starsky's back.

Hutch took in the scene and an overpowering sense of gloom filled him.   
_He is never going to be the same again. Impossible. Massive damage. Hell, I should have known the moment I heard those words that he would never be the same anymore. God,Starsk! Why you? You couldn't even be still in your sleep and now --- now even breathing is a difficult task for you._

Hutch watched and, after another five minutes, Moses seemed to have succeeded in taking the cramp out of Starsky's back and was helping Starsky up until he was on all fours.

"Okay now, you know the drill. When I give the signal you raise your left arm and right leg simultaneously. You don't have to raise them high. You just have to raise 'em off the mat. At the next signal you alternate with your right arm and left leg, okay? Okay, ready? Go!"

Hutch had observed Starsky listening to Moses' instructions and now after the first signal he looked on as his partner slowly and minimally raised his left arm and right leg, causing him to wobble dangerously on the mat, almost losing his balance.  
By the sixth time Hutch could tell Starsky was losing power as his arms and legs were beginning to tremble. His partner had not complained about pain during this exercise, though.

"Other side," Moses continued and Starsky was a bit too enthusiastic while switching. His right arm gave way underneath him and he dropped unceremoniously, head first, down on the mat, causing Hutch to almost give up his silent observant position behind the door and jump in to pick up his partner.

"You all right?" Moses inquired.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just stupid, 's all," Starsky chuckled out of breath.

"Okay, playtime is over, winding down on the breathing. Follow me, concentrate on your breathing and, most importantly, don't breathe in my face, cos I wanna live a bit longer!" Moses said with a deadpan expression on his face that only broke into a grin after he saw Starsky's pout.

Hutch was now watching with a mixture of concern, gloom, pride, hope and love.   
Concern at the sight of his partner in pain.   
Gloom at the sight of his partner laboring through the simplest of physical exercises.   
Pride at seeing how Starsky, no matter how much pain and hard work it took, managed to pull through.   
Hope because inside he knew Starsky wouldn't give up, due to his determined nature.   
And love for his partner who seemed to take his predicament like the true trooper he'd always been.   
Love also for the way Moses handled Starsky to bring out the best in him.  
Quietly, Hutch shut the door again and joined Rachel back in the kitchen.

After five minutes, Starsky's breathing returned to a normal tempo and Moses helped him get to the bathroom.  
He studied Starsky and then asked,  
"Any particular reason why you decided I should bathe you today?"

"Hmmm?" Starsky looked up at Moses with an innocent expression on his face.

Moses knew him well enough by now to see right through it.   
"Don't play dumb with me. Why am I bathing you today?"

Starsky blushed lightly and looked down at the floor.  
"You told Hutch and my mom **you'd** do it."

"Nah-ah; I **offered** them the option to **let **me do it. They declined. So I figured it was you. You uncomfortable with Hutch or your ma doing the honors? Is that it? Would ya rather have a nurse come here every day to do it? That could still be arranged."

"Nah --- it's just ---, " Starsky sighed, but still kept his eyes cast downward,  
"**Anyone** doin' the honors would make me feel uncomfortable right now, ya know?"   
He looked up at Moses, a genuinely innocent look in his eyes now.  
"I mean, yesterday ---- today --- Hutch had ta help me take a leak --- it's so goddamned embarrassing, ya know? Not just for me, but for him, too. I mean --- we're partners, friends --- hell, he's my **best **friend. But there's some things that just ---- that don't ----" he let out a heavy sigh.  
"I --- I just thought I'd be able to do that stuff for myself once I got out of the hospital, ya know?" he concluded softly.

"Listen, bro'. I hate having to ask this, but - you're not gonna burst my bubble and turn into a wimp now that you're back home, are ya? This is only the second day out of the hospital, man, get real! You **can't do** it all yet - you're not ready! It'll come back to you, don't worry. You really gotta be patient and we both know that's not your strong suit. We talked about this before, bro. Remember, at the hospital? It's not just uncomfortable for you, but for your partner and your mother too, you know? You guys are **all** in the same boat. But you **gotta** get over it, because you got **no** other choice right now. You gotta let it go and accept that right now you need a little help, okay? We'll keep working on you and when you're ready, you'll be well and able enough to do these things for yourself again and you'll have forgotten what all the fuss was about, okay?"

Starsky looked up at his therapist, his friend, with trust and fondness.  
"I hate it, but you're right again. Pretty disgusting if ya ask me," he added with a wicked grin, then briefly touched Moses' magnificently muscular arm to thank him.

"What do you say we get your partner in here, show him one more time how it's done properly and he can take over starting tomorrow, huh?"

A hint of panic washed over Starsky's features. Again he worried about what this shift of intimacy would do to his friendship and partnership with Hutch.

"Hey, I don't know Hutch as long as you do, but I do know about people and I can tell he is a genuinely good guy. You know that more than I do. He's good people, Dave. Don't worry. I'm gonna get him, okay?"

Starsky looked at Moses and knew he was right. He nodded his head and waited patiently as Moses went to get Hutch.

"Hutch, you want to join Dave and me in the bathroom? I'll run through the easiest way to clean him up for you again --- and uhm, I think I set him straight on that, so will you come?"

Hutch looked up at Moses, then exchanged looks with Rachel before following his partner's therapist to the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom there was an uncomfortable silence as the partners who'd known each other since the Academy and had been in many close and emotional situations before were bashful and quiet like two wallflowers afraid to ask each other to dance.

Moses had seen similar situations countless times before, often in situations where his patient was one half of a married couple. He knew that the usual intimacy came naturally, because the partners were equals. Then suddenly, through illness or injury, the balance shifted and inequality set in and with it awkwardness, despite the existence of a long time relationship. Although he was dealing with two hardened policemen here, Moses knew the situation was very comparable.

"Okay fellas, let's just get this out in the open right away. You guys are going to get more intimate than you have ever been before. That is, more intimate than I **assume** you've ever been before. And that's tough. But you gotta shed your shyness and just remember: we all came into this world nekked!" Moses spoke the last word with relish and a wiggle of his eyebrows. Both partners smiled shyly, and he knew he had them right where he wanted them.

"So, you might as well enjoy it," he added, mimicking Groucho Marx as if he were holding a cigar, an act he'd seen Starsky do countless times during their long hours of physical therapy together.

Hutch rolled his eyes, but inside he was grateful for Moses' approach.  
"Sheesh, I can tell you've spent way too much time with Gordo over there!" he exclaimed but the fond smile he sent to his partner relayed his true feelings.

Starsky smiled warmly toward both his friends. It was as if Moses' intro had lifted a major weight from his shoulders and - looking at his partner - he felt that Hutch too had calmed down a bit at the prospect of the intimate tasks with which he had to help Starsky.

"All right. Now, I've suggested to Dave we start off with a shower chair first. Once you're more stable on your feet, we can get rid of that, okay?"

Starsky nodded. He was still in his sweats and he knew what obviously had to come next.

"Hutch? Quick briefing on Dave's situation. He's not too stable yet. Partly due to being laid up for so long, partly due to having been through coma and a cardiac and partly due to his pain medication. You also know that Dave's range in his upper body is still limited due to the stiffness of his spine and shoulder. So you take a look at how you're supposed to help Dave change in and out of his clothes, without causing him too much discomfort, okay? And Dave, I know you're a cry baby but don't you be scaring the be-jesus out of your partner, okay?"

"Whaddaya me---"

"Okay, thanks for your cooperation," Moses interrupted Starsky's whine.  
"See, you just let him do what he **can** do, and you only assist when you think the point has come that he's choking himself, all right?"

"Any more helpful tips?" Starsky grumbled.

"What are **you** whining about? **He's** gotta do most of the work!" Moses teased.

"You make me sound like I'm a friggin' piece 'a' wood!" Starsky mock-complained.

"Well, show your partner how flexible you are then, but don't overdo it," Moses said.

Starsky sighed and began to raise his sweatshirt. Soon enough he couldn't reach any higher and his muffled mumble sounded from under the sweatshirt.  
"I think I'm stuck here!"

Moses nodded to Hutch to pay attention and then proceeded to cautiously untangle Starsky from his sweatshirt.  
As he was busy helping Starsky he told Hutch,  
"You might want to have him sit down for this, so you can reach things better since you two are about the same size. Come to think of it, you also might wanna start taking off his pants first while he's still standing, so he won't have to get up and sit down all the time."

Hutch nodded in understanding.

"Hey! I'm **in** the room, ya know!" Starsky protested.

"Sure you are! **We** know that," Moses said matter of factly, practically ignoring Starsky's whine.

"Well, then stop talking about me in the third person!" Starsky complained.

"Okay, pants is next," Moses continued now really ignoring Starsky.   
Again he first let Starsky do what he was able to do.   
"You wanna try and take 'em off all the way?" he asked Starsky.

Starsky nodded.

"Okay, then you hold on to me and with your other hand you strip off the pants -- that's right -- just hold on --- now step out of --- that's right. Very good, Dave!"

Hutch watched with a queasy feeling in his stomach as a wide grin broke on Starsky's face, proud as he was over the fact that he'd managed to take his pants off with only a minimal amount of support from Moses.

"All right, breakthrough time!" Moses exclaimed as he and Starsky smiled at each other. Then he turned toward Hutch and said,  
"Well, that was a first! Makes your task a little easier already, bro!"

Hutch smiled back at Moses with mixed feelings.

Moses and Starsky exchanged looks and then Starsky, as if he could read his partner's apprehensive thoughts, managed to smile reassuringly up at Hutch.  
He looked once more at Moses and then quietly announced,  
"And now for the grand finale ----" and proceeded to take off his boxers.

After he'd finished stripping, Starsky stood there in the bathroom, vulnerable and stark naked, holding on to Moses for support and balance.  
A raw sense of reality washed over Hutch as he was confronted with the scars on his partner's body under the bright lights of the bathroom.   
Suddenly Starsky's moves seemed even more insecure and uncoordinated.  
Moses continued to talk the partners through the proceedings. Starsky, seated on his shower chair, did as much as he was capable of and Hutch helped him. They were tense, they were uncomfortable, but as the ritual went on, they became a bit more at ease with the situation.

Seeing his friend's actions brought immediate awareness to Hutch on just **how** limited Starsky's abilities were at this point. _It is going to take months before he'll be himself again!_

As soon as they were finished, Hutch turned off the water and Moses exclaimed,  
"Okay, that looked pretty terrific to me. How did he do, Dave?"

"Yeah, 's all right. I think the guy's got a future here!" Starsky replied, sounding more cheerful now. Then a sudden tremor overtook Starsky's body, causing Hutch's heart to jump.

"Starsk, are you all right?"

"Just ----ggggettin' a bit ---- cccc-cold, 's all," Starsky replied through chattering teeth.

"Oh, uuuhhhmmmm?" Hutch turned around and quickly took the towel Moses handed to him and wrapped it around the still sitting Starsky.

"His system is not up to par yet, so you just get him dry as soon as possible." Moses offered, as Hutch carefully patted Starsky's skin dry.

Starsky was too cold and trembling too much to complain that he was talked about in the third person again.

"Now you need to stand him up, no, just support his arms, don't let him slip on the wet floor, hold on, all right -- you guys sure you didn't do this before?" Moses teased as Hutch carefully led Starsky out of the shower stall.

The partners were too pre-occupied to reply. Starsky couldn't stop shivering and that had its effect on Hutch.  
Moses picked up on the fact that Hutch was close to panicking and gave some more instructions.  
"Dry him off enough so he won't drip on the carpet, take him to the bedroom where it's warmer, finish drying him there and help him get dressed."

Soon enough Hutch, albeit awkwardly, groomed Starsky and helped him get dressed. Starsky kept shivering throughout the proceedings so much, that Moses decided to take his temperature.  
"Your temp is normal ----- Hmmm, just put on an extra sweater until you're comfortable, all right?"

After the morning ritual Moses stayed a while longer to talk Starsky, Rachel and Hutch through some more tips and tricks. When he was done he left for the hospital.

The rest of the day was spent quietly. In the afternoon Starsky often nodded off and took several naps on the couch. Hutch had a ball when Rachel insisted on driving the Torino to the shopping center. He watched as the charming, middle-aged brunette in her multicolored dress and white sandals, hair in a bun, sat down behind the wheel of her son's racing monster, shopping bag on the passenger seat.  
_This is a riot! I wish I had my camera!_ he thought as he waved his partner's mother goodbye.

He turned and watched Starsky who was napping on the couch.   
_God, how long will it take, Starsk? How long before you're whole again? _  
Then the ringing of the phone startled him and he hurried to the kitchen to answer it.   
It was Moses checking in-between patients.

"Oh, hi Moses. --- Oh, he's okay. Pretty worn out.   
What? ---- No, he took the sweater off after about an hour.   
He had two slices of bread for lunch -- cheese and ham -- one glass of OJ, one glass of water.   
Was a bit nauseous but that disappeared all by itself.  
Tried an apple, but couldn't keep that down. What? ---- Bake it? ----  
Oh, I don't know. He's very particular as far as his tastes in foods go. ----- You noticed?"

Hutch laughed as Moses recalled some of the stories Starsky had told him about his favorite dishes.  
"Yep, that's my partner!   
A blender? Yeah, I've got one. I think he has one too. ---- Oh, really? Okay, we'll try that.   
\---- No, he's asleep right now. ---- It is?   
Well, he --- no, he --- I know, but he just keeps dozing off. I should wake him?   
\---- Okay, I understand. Check on how long he sleeps and --- okay.   
So I let him sleep for now? ---- Okay. ----  
Mashed potatoes, grilled chicken and applesauce.   
Okay, see you tomorrow. Thanks, Mo. Bye."


	3. ALL IS NOT RIGHT WITH THE WORLD

## ALL IS NOT RIGHT WITH THE WORLD

A little after 1:00 a.m. on Starsky's third night home, Rachel was awakened by a strange sound. She slept on a cot in her son's room, next to the hospital bed. Soon after she sat up on her bed, she realized the sound was coming from her son.

"Dave? Are you all right?" she softly asked, following the sounds in the darkness. She received no answer but the strange sounds continued, so she got up from her cot and turned on the bedside light.  
To her shock she saw her son shivering violently in his bed. He appeared to still be asleep.  
She reached out and touched his arm to try and wake him. The muscles in his arm were tight with tension, as if Starsky were having a seizure. Nevertheless Rachel proceeded to shake her son in an attempt to wake him.  
"Dave --- Dave! Wake up, sweetheart -- I think you're dreaming. Dave? Dave!"

If anything, the shivering seemed to be getting worse. Rachel did not want to disturb Hutch's rest but was at her wit's end as to what to do. She carefully made her way into the living room that was now dimly lit by the glow of the light from Starsky's room.

She found the sofa bed and shook Hutch's arm lightly. It didn't take long for him to wake.  
"Hmmm? Wha--?"

"Ken, something's wrong with Dave --- I can't wake him up -- maybe you can," Rachel whispered.

Hutch, his hair standing in all directions, quickly sat up in his makeshift bed. He adjusted his pajama bottoms and asked as he stood,  
"What time is it?"

"I dunno --- just take a look at him, Hutch," Rachel pleaded, while steering him into Starsky's bedroom.

Hutch was immediately alarmed when he saw his partner thrashing around in his bed. The shivering reminded him of the moment when Starsky had a similar attack after taking a shower. Only now it seemed much worse. Hutch stepped up to the bed and softly started shaking his partner,  
"Starsk? Starsk, come on now, wake up. Wake up for me, buddy."

Hutch ran his hand over Starsky's forehead. There didn't appear to be a fever, as his skin felt normal to the touch. Hutch shook Starsky some more while trying to rouse him, but to no avail.

"What do you think it is?" Rachel asked, concern all over her face.

"I don't know. He doesn't appear to be cold."

Not understanding why Starsky remained unresponsive, Hutch started shaking his friend a bit harder.  
"Come on, Starsk! Open your eyes for me buddy. You can do it! Come on, now!"

Finally Starsky's eyes opened. He seemed bewildered.

"Hey, talk to me, buddy. Are you in pain? Huh? Are you cold?" Hutch asked his friend in a soothing tone.

Starsky was unresponsive and merely stared at Hutch with a blank expression on his face, his teeth chattering and his entire body shivering violently.

Hutch made his decision.   
"Rachel, I'm going to call Dr. Jamison and then I'm going to call an ambulance."

"But ---" Rachel sputtered as she crossed the room to her son's bedside and began patting his matted curls.

"Rachel, I have no idea what's wrong with him. Perhaps I should call Moses, too."

"But it's the middle of the night!" Rachel exclaimed.

Hutch reached for the phone by the bed, and dialed quickly.  
"Look, they both said we could call -- night or day -- in case of an emergency. I think this qualifies as an emer---- hello? Hello, Dr. Jamison?  
(---)  
Yes, sir. It's Ken Hutchinson, Det. Star---- Dave's partner?   
(---) Yeah?   
(---)Yeah, right. Listen, uhm. Doctor, I don't know what's going on with Dave right now. Well, he's shaking violently -- he's uh   
(---) no, while he was asleep.   
(---) No, he's awake now.   
No, he can't --- no, he doesn't --- totally unresponsive. He --- can you hear that? He just started moaning now, too. Should I call an ambulance?   
(---) Uh - huh. Okay.   
(---) You will? All right. Okay, I'll try one more time - hang on."

Hutch put the phone down and again attempted to get a response from Starsky, who by now was shaking uncontrollably and had started moaning as well.  
"Starsk, wake up for me, buddy. Say something. Come on, now. You can do it!"

Just as he was about to return to the phone, Starsky's moans became a bit more coherent.  
"Oh --- ooooowwwwww. Uh, Hussssssshhhhhhh ---- no -----," his eyes seemed more alert and moved from his mother to Hutch and back.

"Easy, buddy. Can you tell me what you feel, Starsk?" Hutch probed in a soft voice.

Starsky could only manage a moan as he stared intensely at his mother, who had taken a towel to dab her son's forehead.

"Are you cold, Starsk? Huh? Are you cold?"

"No, not ---- can't ssssssstop ----- ssssssshakin.'"

"Yeah, I know, buddy -- just a second," Hutch returned to the phone.  
"Doc? Yeah, he seems more alert now. He says he can't stop shaking, but he isn't cold.   
(---) Huh? Okay   
(---) you did? All right. We'll meet you there. Oh, I think they've just arrived.   
(---) Yes, sir. Talk to you later."

Hutch hung up the phone and turned to Rachel.   
"Jamison called an ambulance, nothing to worry about -- he just wants to be sure. Let's get ready so we can go too," Hutch patted Rachel's arm and left to let the ambulance personnel in.

Rachel and Hutch spent the next two hours at the hospital emergency unit in their pajamas and coats waiting for news. The harsh lighting made them look worn and older than they really were. Finally Dr. Jamison, also clearly missing out on some, much needed, night's rest, emerged from the cubicle.  
He smiled at Hutch and Rachel. That was a good sign.

"How is he, Doctor?" Rachel asked anxiously.

"He's better now. It took a while before we could stabilize him."

"Well, what was it, Doc? What's wrong with him?" Hutch asked.

"He's tired, Ken. Dead tired. All worn out. His body was just having a severe reaction to his fatigue. I think the change in routine, of him being home again, is taking him a little longer to adjust to than we'd hoped it would. This is just a reminder to all of us that we're dealing with a person here, who's been to hell and back. He's still far from being the man he used to be."

Rachel and Hutch looked at Jamison in disbelief. Then Hutch asked,  
"So --- what happens now? Does he have to be admitted again?"  
He sounded resigned, almost hopeless at Starsky's predicament.

"No --- he doesn't have to and more importantly: he doesn't want to. We're sending him home now, and I recommend we simply let him adjust to being at home. I've made notes for Moses and we're just going to have to take a few steps back. The best thing now for Dave is to rest and do nothing **but** rest. Don't worry --- I've convinced him of the necessity of this already," Jamison chuckled,  
"Luckily he was too tired to put up much of a fight!"

Now both Rachel and Hutch were reassured enough to be able to produce weary smiles.

Jamison became more serious again.  
"Look, Dave is not the man he used to be -- that will still take a very long, hard time. We have to live in the moment and see things as they are, and remain alert, at all times. His condition is still fragile and we must take every signal seriously, all right? It may be relatively minor this time, but the next time it could be more serious. You did the right thing in calling me tonight, so wipe those guilty looks off your faces!" Jamison added with mock sternness.   
"He's being prepped for the ride home now. I suggest you go home so you can get ready for him. And try to get some sleep!"

"Can we see him before we go?" Hutch asked.

"Come on, Ken. He'll be there five minutes after you get home," Dr. Jamison said as he looked at the worn figure opposite him,  
"If you don't leave now, the ambulance is going to beat you there. Go on now!"

Slightly embarrassed Hutch took Rachel's arm and together they left for the apartment.

Within ten minutes of their arrival, Starsky was carried in on a gurney. Looking pale and tired, he was helped into bed and was asleep within a few minutes time. The ambulance personnel left, but not before adding even more bottles of medication to the growing collection on top of the fridge.

It was after 4:00 a.m. before Hutch and Rachel could go back to sleep after a night filled with worry and anxiety.


	4. BACK TO SQUARE ONE

## BACK TO SQUARE ONE

Hutch didn't fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning after their interrupted night, yet he still woke up at 7:30 a.m. He immediately went over to Starsky's bedroom to check on his partner and his mother.

Both mother and son were still asleep. Starsky was lying in the same position in which he fell asleep last night. Hutch couldn't resist checking his partner's temperature. He placed his hand on Starsky's forehead. To his relief, it felt normal to the touch.

Hutch tiptoed out of the bedroom and proceeded to make himself some coffee and toast for breakfast. After a while, Rachel joined him in the kitchen.

"Mornin'. Did you sleep at all?" she asked her son's best friend.

Hutch smiled shyly and shrugged his shoulders.   
"I'll catch up later. Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure, thank you, sweetheart," Rachel said, yawning.  
She looked in the direction of the bedroom.  
"He looks so peaceful now, as if last night never happened."

"I know," Hutch answered while pouring the coffee.

"Do you have the notes for Moses?" Rachel asked.

"Huh? Uhm, uh --- yes, I uh --- I think they're in my pocket. Why?"

"Nothing -- just remembered Dr. Jamison mentioning them."   
Rachel looked at the kitchen clock.  
"I think we'd better wake him for his medicine," she said.

Armed with the medication and the last of Rachel's cake they walked into Starsky's bedroom. He was just beginning to stir.

"Davey, sweetheart, wake up. Time for your pill," Rachel said in a soothing tone, while tenderly stroking her son's forehead.

Starsky opened his eyes and grimaced. His entire body was on fire and hadn't hurt this much in weeks. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't hide his agony.  
"I feel like I went a couple 'a' rounds with Muhammad Ali ---" he grunted, trying to make a joke out of it, but the pain was etched on his features.

Both Rachel and Hutch understood the pain was bad.  
"Here you go, Starsk. First some cake, then your pill. You want me to turn the bed up a bit?"

Starsky croaked his affirmation and Hutch pushed the remote to raise the bed.

When the bed was raised to a semi-seated position, Hutch handed the plate with the cake to Starsky who, reluctantly, began eating. Halfway through, though, he called out in panic  
"I'm gonna be sick----"

Hutch reacted quickly but could only find a large towel just in time for Starsky to deposit what little his stomach contained. During the short breaks between heaving, Starsky moaned   
"God, this is gross -- sorry, Hutch --- I'm not done yet -- I'm not done, yet ---."

Rachel and Hutch exchanged looks. This scene eerily resembled the ones they had experienced back at the hospital, many weeks ago. They both had that helpless feeling of going back to square one. The worst part about the current crises was that Starsky had made so much progress in the weeks before his release from the hospital.

When Starsky was done heaving, his pallor had positively turned gray. Still, Hutch knew that his friend needed to have something in his stomach before he could take the painkillers. After disposing the dirty towel in the bathroom, Hutch offered what was left of the cake to Starsky again.  
"Here you go," he coaxed his ailing partner.

"Nah --- just gimme the pill, Hutch," Starsky complained.

"Can't do that, buddy --- you **need** to get something inside you first," Hutch pleaded with Starsky.

"I'm just gonna barf it up again -- just gimme the pill, will ya?" Starsky replied, irritably.

"Starsk ----" Hutch answered.

"Hutch -- will you give me the goddamn pill, I'm dyin' here!" Starsky exclaimed, not trying to cover his agony with any lighthearted banter anymore.

"Dave! You have to eat something first. Come on, now! You can do it," Rachel intervened.

Starsky moaned and glared at both his mother and partner.  
Then he picked up his fork and finished the last bit of cake. He had to stop a few times when began to feel sick again, but Hutch coached him through when the nausea threatened to overtake him.  
As soon as he'd finished his cake, Starsky was handed a glass of water with the much needed painkiller. After a few minutes it became evident the pill's effects were kicking in and Starsky visibly relaxed. He looked at his partner and mother with a slightly guilty expression.

"Sorry 'bout that --- Caused quite a stir last night, huh? Got no idea what happened there. Sorry," he apologized with a shy smile.

"It's out of your power, sweetheart. You can't apologize for something you can't control," Rachel replied while rubbing his arm.  
"How do you feel now?"

"Okay, I guess. What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock," Hutch answered.

"Do you remember your conversation with Dr. Jamison last night?" Rachel asked

Starsky nodded his head.  
"Said my system's still outta whack. Told me to take it easy for a bit."   
Starsky sounded resigned.

"That's not a bad idea," Hutch said while returning to the bathroom to wash out the dirty towel.

Rachel studied her son and sensed his disappointment.  
"It'll work out fine. Your system just needs time to adjust. Listen to your body and you'll feel better soon."

The doorbell rang. On his way to answer it Hutch wondered,  
"Who'd come by **this** early? We're not expecting anyone, are we?"

When he opened the door he found a concerned looking Moses.  
"Doc called me this morning. I thought I'd stop by on my way to my first patient. How's he doin'?"

"Better now," Hutch smiled warmly at his friend's therapist.  
"Have a look for yourself."

Moses quickly made it to the bedroom where he found a pale Starsky in bed. After a quick hello to Rachel he walked over to Starsky's bedside.  
"What happened, Curly?"

"Dunno --- just felt like shit all of a sudden. Had the shakes, ya know?"

"Pain?" Moses asked.

"Not when it happened. Hurt like a bitch when I woke up this morning, though," Starsky chuckled then looked like a little boy at his mother - who pretended not to have heard.

"Let me check this out," Moses said as he began probing and feeling Starsky's limbs and the tension in his muscles.  
"Hmmm. Well, I'm going to follow Dr. Jamison's suggestion and just take a few steps back with your program for a while."

Starsky started to pout. His recovery could not go quick enough to his taste.  
"Oh, c'mon Mo! We could easily ---" he started.

But Moses interrupted him.  
"I want you to stay in bed today as much as possible. Mrs. Starsky, you can give him his bath here, like we practiced earlier, right?"

Rachel nodded while Hutch looked on pensively from the doorway.

"Right - do we have the chair here? Okay, when you gotta go, use the chair today, okay? We'll take it one day at a time. I gotta leave now, I'll see you back at 11.00, right? You gotta use the bathroom? I can take you quickly before I go?"

Starsky acknowledged and Moses took off his jacket and carried Starsky over to the bathroom where he assisted him. He didn't like the feel of the tense muscles of his favorite patient at all. This morning's stretching session was going to be a hard and painful one.

After returning Starsky to bed, Moses hurriedly put on his jacket and rushed out to his other patient, leaving Hutch, Rachel and Starsky in a quiet, more somber, mood.

The morning crawled by slowly.   
Starsky was overcome by a strange mix of emotions.   
Guilt over his setback and the worries he'd caused his mother, partner and therapist.   
Frustration and impatience as his body had clearly signaled to him it was far from healed yet.   
Anxiety about his future.   
If a simple change of locations could cause such a serious setback in his condition, what would an actual rigorous program for improvement do to him?   
And, totally in tune with his character, boredom.   
While lying in the hospital bed in his bedroom, he was literally counting the minutes as they passed; in between naps, that is. Boredom fed his frustration about not being able to do much and about time passing too slowly.  
Being indisposed was definitely not on David Starsky's list of talents. In his mind he could jump out of bed and run over to the fridge to fetch himself a snack. In reality, just turning on his side in his bed knocked the breath right out of him.

Moses came back later that morning and began light stretching exercises again, the same ones which had started off his physical therapy weeks ago. Starsky felt even worse than he had while still in the hospital, but decided to try not to show that to anyone. He was going to get well as quickly as possible - even if it killed him. But Moses knew his favorite patient well enough by now to sense he was not doing well. He couldn't just "feel the vibes". He could literally feel it from the tense muscles he was gently massaging.

"Okay, last set and then I'll clean you up. How's that feel?" Moses gently asked.

"Terrific," Starsky croaked. He didn't just feel as if he was run over by a truck, but now that same truck seemed to be continually going back and forth over his body.  
_Never knew before that my hair could hurt too-----_

"Well -- that was the last one," Moses softly said. He picked up a towel and dabbed the perspiration and massaging oil off Starsky's body. Then he fetched the wheelchair, gathered Starsky up in his arms and thus made room for Rachel and Hutch to change the bed, while he took Starsky to the bathroom to clean him up.

Starsky could barely cooperate because his limbs felt as if weights were attached to them. When an uncontrolled move of his arm hit Moses in the face he mumbled,  
"Shit, sorry 'bout that, Mo."

"Don't worry about it," Mo responded lightly. He looked up and noticed the despondent look in Starsky's eyes.  
"Hey! Don't you be getting down on me, bro! Keep thinking positive thoughts, then we'll be back on schedule again before we know it, okay? Little setbacks like this happen all the time. Most of my patients have gone through similar things, and they all got through it fine, all right?"

Starsky looked into Moses' brown eyes for a long moment, while collecting himself, before nodding his head and softly responding,  
"Yeah -- 's all right."

"Good. Now I'm just gonna check if your bed's ready, put you back in and then I gotta be off again. You just relax and take it easy. Everything will work out just fine, okay?"

Still a bit down, Starsky looked at his therapist.  
"I've never felt this tired in my life. All I feel like doin' is just sleep and even **that **is wearing me out! You sure this isn't anything serious? That it'll --- that I'll be --- That I can still work on getting back to normal again?"

Moses made a face while taking hold of Starsky's hands. He knew full well that the extend of what Starsky had been through these past few months and the condition he was in, resulted in an overall 'drained' feeling for his patient. Yet it was part of his task to, within reality's limitations, keep his patient motivated and hopeful, as long as there was a real chance of substantial progress.  
"Hey, bro. D'ya remember any time I wasn't straight with ya? We'll take it easy for now, cos this was a signal we have to listen to. But soon enough we'll be back on schedule, for sure, ya hear?"

"I hear ya!" Starsky now smiled again.

Moses had managed to cheer Starsky up considerably. Once he'd left, Starsky felt chipper enough to read the newspaper, talk on the phone to Rosie Dobey explaining to her why she had to put off her planned visit to him and to answer some "Get Well" mail with his mother. In between all these activities he spent most of his time napping.

When Starsky fell asleep just an hour after the three of them had their dinner in his bedroom, Rachel and Hutch quietly cleared away the clutter and had one last look at him before retiring to the living room.

"Sleep has always been the best medicine for him," Rachel spoke reassuringly, as she noticed Hutch's worried expression,  
"I bet the more he sleeps, the sooner he will be back on schedule. You'll see." She rubbed Hutch's arm.

"Yeah," he whispered in reply and then they left Starsky in peace.


	5. OUTSIDE, THE WORLD GOES ON

## OUTSIDE, THE WORLD GOES ON

On his fifth day home, Starsky was still under the weather, spending most of his time asleep in bed.

Moses came by at his scheduled time and gave Starsky another massage in his bed. After cleaning him up and leaving him to rest, Moses joined Rachel and Hutch in the living room.

"How is he?" Hutch asked anxiously.

"He's a very, very battered boy, Hutch --- he needs time --- we need to try and be patient," Moses answered in a serious tone.

Both Rachel and Hutch knew Moses was as pure and honest as they came. On Starsky's own insistence he never beat around the bush, but told things as they were.

"Did you see this coming, Moses? -- Was this something we could expect or ----" Rachel asked timidly.

"Well, Mrs. Starsky, to tell you the truth --- Dave is kinda like a trial case for us. -- Nobody with injuries as bad as his has come this far before in Memorial --- at least not as long as I've worked there. He's surprising everybody --- that's why his case is being documented for the record. So, in all honesty we don't really know what to expect, except that, considering the graveness of his injuries, we may have to take almost anything into account. The fact he came out of this able to stand on his own two feet, with no signs of brain damage and no signs of permanent damage to his heart is a miracle in itself. Everything else is a bonus ----"

Moses looked at his watch and jumped up.  
"Man, something else I found out. You sure get hooked on that guy --- I'm late for my next patient!"

Rachel, Hutch and Moses laughed briefly, relieving some of their worry and stress, then said their goodbyes.

Moses had not been gone longer than five minutes when the doorbell rang again.  
"He must have forgotten something," Hutch told Rachel while answering the door.  
He found both Captain Dobey as well as District Attorney James McEwan on the doorstep.  
"Captain?" Hutch asked in surprise.

"Yes, Hutchinson ---- you didn't forget we were coming to go over the trial files, did you?" Dobey asked, already seeing the answer to that question in his Detective's eyes.

"Uhm --- uh, no -- I uh --- please, come in ---" Hutch stammered.

Rachel watched her son's commanding officer and the DA enter the living room. She stepped up to shake hands and exchange introductions.  
"Hello Harold, always good to see you," she smiled at the large man, then addressed the DA,  
"Hello, I'm Rachel Starsky --- Detective Starsky's mother --- please, won't you sit down?"

The men opted for the chairs around the dinner table and Rachel went into the kitchen to fix them coffee.  
Dobey opened the conversation.  
"Hutch, you know we were going to go over the trial documents again. Just to get everything in line before the trial finally starts --- to make sure that --- to make sure Gunther doesn't get off on a technicality." Dobey had to force himself from using the actual terms he had in mind for the despicable piece of criminal vermin he really thought James Marshall Gunther to be.

Hutch nodded his head,  
"Yes, sir."

The DA began to extract the files from his briefcase and lay them on the table.  
"We have some material here that we feel Detective Starsky should go over as well -- just to verify some last points."

Hutch shook his head,  
"Uh, Captain, Mr. McEwan -- Starsky is not doing very well right now --- uhm, he's had a rough few days adjusting to coming home again. Is there any way we could do this at a later time?"

Dobey was immediately alert.  
"What happened Hutchinson? Is he going to be all right?"

Rachel came in with the refreshments.  
Just as she was to explain the crisis that had occurred earlier, a moan could be heard from the bedroom.  
The agony in the voice that called out sent shivers down everyone's spine. Both Hutch and Rachel excused themselves and bolted for Starsky's bedroom, leaving Dobey and the DA looking uncomfortably at one another.

Meanwhile, in Starsky's bedroom, an overly anxious Hutch was at his partner's side.  
"Hey, buddy, take it easy --- what's wrong? Can you tell me what's wrong?" he softly encouraged his friend.

"My back --- somethin's in my back --- I can't move --- it --" Starsky answered, fully awake, but in obvious discomfort.

Rachel and Hutch exchanged looks, both wondering at the same time how long and how hard this journey back to health was really going to be on Starsky.

"Okay Starsk, I'm going to slowly turn you over, all right? Let me know when it hurts --," Hutch proceeded to turn Starsky on his side. His heart was racing, nervous about what he would find.

Before he could see the problem, he already heard Rachel's giggle. He looked up and saw what had caused Starsky's agony.

"How on earth did **this **get here?" Rachel exclaimed, while holding up the bed's remote control.

With a deep sigh of relief, Hutch helped Starsky to lie on his back again.

"Whassat?" Starsky asked,  
"The remote? How did that get there?"

"Well, at least it wasn't one of your own parts that got loose," Hutch dared to joke now.

That remark relieved them of the last worry and stress and they shared a short, cleansing laugh.

"Well, since I'm up -- can I go watch some TV?" Starsky asked, sounding like a little boy.

"You think you're up for it?" Rachel asked, because Starsky's request meant he had to be transferred to the couch in the living room.

"Sure, why not?" Starsky replied, unconcerned.

"Well, uh -- Starsk -- if you're feeling okay now ----," Hutch started hesitantly, looking at Rachel for support.  
"Captain Dobey and DA McEwan are out in the living room. They're here to go over --- to go over some last details for the trial ---" he let the words linger and studied Starsky to see how his message registered.

The expression on Starsky's face didn't give his feelings away.  
"Are they in there now?"

"Yes. I already told them you've been a bit under the weather, so ---" Hutch informed Starsky.

That remark didn't seem to please Starsky at all. He held out his hand for the remote to his bed.  
"Let's go," was all he said.

"You su---" Hutch started.

"Lets go!" Starsky insisted.

While Hutch assisted him, Starsky asked his mother,  
"Ma, will ya distract them a bit --- no need to make my entrance look like some parade."

Rachel nodded and went into the living room. A few minutes later Hutch wheeled in Starsky, who put on his best "I'm okay" face.

Dobey and McEwan got up to greet Starsky. Dobey exchanged a worried glance with Hutch. To him, his dark haired detective didn't look as good as he had on the day he'd been released from the hospital. Hutch returned Dobey's unspoken questions with a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

Even McEwan, who had never met Starsky in person but who of course was completely in on all the facts of the Gunther case through the trial information, seemed aware they should not take up too much of the injured Detective's time. Indeed, Starsky had looked better. Hutch helped Starsky get comfortable on the couch and Rachel brought him a glass of water along with his medication.

"Detective Starsky," McEwan began,   
"I will just ask you what we need to hear from you, personally, and I will get the rest of the information from your partner, Detective Hutchinson, at another time."  
He proceeded to take out a tape recorder and a microphone, placed it on the coffee table near Starsky and then opened one of the files.

Starsky got as comfortable as possible and once he was settled the DA said,  
"Now this is just informal, all right? Nothing set yet. All I want right now is to get a general idea of what **you** remember from that day, is that clear Detective?"

Starsky nodded his head and looked - as if searching for reassurance - at Captain Dobey and Hutch.

"All right. Now, I understand you and Detective Hutchinson had been spending your time right before the event, in a rather relaxed way? Playing ---- ping pong if I'm not mistaken?"

Starsky and Hutch looked briefly at each other, slightly embarrassed because this fact, too, would make it into court.  
They nodded in unison.

"That's a yes? Very well. Detective Starsky, can you recall for me -- as far as you are able to -- what happened when you left the station?"

Starsky shifted on the couch and cleared his throat.  
"Well, we, uh, we stepped out of the building and, uhm, we were talkin' ---- walked toward the car and, uhm, well, that's pretty much it. That's when it happened."

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary, on your way to you car?"

Starsky shook his head.  
"Nope, not really."  
He chuckled and looked at Hutch as he said,  
"If we had, we wouldn't be havin' this conversation now, would we?!"

His amusement at his own joke ended in a vicious bout of coughing that sent flaming stabs of pain through his entire upper body and caused his face to turn a bright shade of red.   
Everybody in the room cringed at the unfortunate young man's condition. It took a good minute for Starsky to stop and recover from the coughing. Hutch had assisted in trying to help Starsky sit up more during the attack and already thought he could feel an increase in Starsky's body temperature.   
He looked worried enough for Rachel, Dobey and McEwan to pick up on his concerns.

Starsky instantly felt sorry that his attempt at humor fell short due to the subsequent coughing attack.  
"I'm sorry 'bout that ---," he sighed,  
"--- it's just --- I dunno --- nothin' seemed out of place at that point. There were more officers standing by their cars and they were at ease too, so ----"

"These officers that were standing there, they were genuine officers? You actually recognized them?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, to your recollection, you had no reason to assume there might be people on the premises who might not belong there?"

Hutch cleared his throat and scratched his jaw, his eyes shifting to Starsky.

"No sir, not as far as we could see ----"

"Would you say you and Detective Hutchinson were alert and aware of your surroundings as you left the building?"

Starsky chuckled and coughed again, briefly.  
"Alert? We weren't intoxicated!" Again the look in Hutch's eyes urged him to be more serious.  
"We were talkin' so I guess that we weren't one hundred percent payin' attention."

"You did make it to the car?"

"Yeah."

"What happened there?"

"Well, we were still talking ---- uhm, I **think** we were getting in ---" Starsky looked at Hutch.

"You were slow in ---"

"Detective Hutchinson, please, it is of the utmost importance that I know just what Detective Starsky is able to recall from his **own** memories of the event."

Hutch nodded his head.

Starsky made a face before continuing.  
"I was kinda slow in unlocking the car and uhm --- then there was this sound ---"   
The memories threatened to overtake Starsky, but he continued,  
"---- metal against metal, I'll never forget it. Like nails on a blackboard, ya know?" he looked at the DA but McEwan remained stoic.  
"I think Hutch called out to me --- uhm --- I just knew these guys, whoever was in that car -- wasn't gonna invite us to a picnic, so I instinctively reached for my gun --- and that's about it."

"You have no other memories? From the incident itself?"

"Nope, sorry."

"Do you remember seeing an actual gun in the car?"

"No," he looked around at Dobey and Hutch again.  
"I remember the sound --- I can see the car coming towards me ---- Hutch yelling somethin' --- glass breaking ---- And the next thing I remember is some nurses changing my bandages --- sorry."

"Uhm, if I may?" Hutch softly offered.

The DA nodded his head.

"It was later established that the first moment he remembers took place two days after he woke up from the coma."

"How long after the shooting was that?" McEwan inquired.

"Four and a half days later," Hutch answered.

"Hmmm," McEwan uttered, pensively. He exchanged looks with Dobey, who seemed genuinely worried about the condition of one of his best men. Then he looked at Starsky who still seemed flushed.   
Since the chances were small of them getting any more useful information out of him, McEwan decided to not impose on the healing detective any longer. He turned the tape recorder off and said, while putting his things back into his briefcase,  
"I think we have all the information from Detective Starsky that we can ask for."   
He shut his briefcase and pointed at the files he'd left on the dinner table.  
"Detective Hutchinson, I would like you to go over those files with a fine toothed comb. Any inconsistencies you find in there you may mark in red, as this is your private copy. Now you are aware these are highly confidential files, and we trust you will treat them as such, since we are only leaving them here with the highest exception, to accommodate you ----"

"Yes sir, I will check them thoroughly and have them back at your department as quickly as possible," Hutch replied.

Dobey and McEwan left and Starsky sat, propped up on the couch, watching whatever the TV offered.  
He continued having sporadic bouts of the most terrible, hacking cough, prompting Rachel and Hutch to watch him more closely.

Checking Starsky later on, Rachel felt her son's forehead, much to his annoyance.

"Ma!"

"You got a fever, Davey --- where do you keep the ---"

But Hutch was way ahead of Rachel. He handed her the thermometer and she placed it in her son's mouth.  
Removing the thermometer, Rachel checked it and found Starsky was running a 102 degree temperature. In his weakened condition he could not afford such a high fever, so the decision was quickly made, and Hutch called the hospital. For the second time in a week he asked for Dr. Jamison, who promised to make a personal visit as soon as he could get away.

An hour and many spine-chilling coughing attacks later, Jamison arrived to check on his patient's condition. While Hutch and Rachel hovered nearby, Jamison's expression did not offer much hope that anything good would be forthcoming.  
When he was done examining Starsky, Jamison said in a serious tone,  
"Dave, I'm not at all pleased with what I'm hearing. You have an upper respiratory infection, and I can hear fluid in your right lung. In any other patient I would prescribe antibiotics and that would pretty much take care of things. With you, however, it's a whole different matter. In your condition, this could easily turn into pneumonia -----."

Jamison let the words linger for a moment. The expression on Starsky's face spoke volumes. This young man in no way wanted to return to hospital a mere five days after his release.  
"I **should** admit you to the hospital --- but because I know your case, and because I know **you** \--- I'll arrange something else. May I use the phone?"

Rachel showed Jamison the phone and the physician began making arrangements.  
When he was done he told the threesome what was going to happen.  
"I have arranged for all the medical equipment that would be used for treating you in the hospital, to be delivered here. I'm talking about an IV for intravenous antibiotics, a humidifier, oxygen supply and a round-the-clock nurse. The treatment - if it works - should have this nasty bug out of your system within a day or two -- three tops. The turning point should come between thirty-six and forty-eight hours. Now I will instruct the nurse to have you packed for the hospital if your condition has not improved by then, do you understand, Dave?" Jamison ended, sounding like a stern father.

"Yes, doc, I got it -- Thanks." Starsky knew Jamison was going out of his way for him and deeply appreciated the doctor's gesture.

Jamison turned to Hutch and Rachel.   
"Now, the nurse will need to stay here around the clock. Is that at all possible?" Jamison asked while his eyes went over the relatively small apartment.

"Absolutely," Hutch was quick to reply,  
"She can sleep on the cot in Starsky's room. Rachel, you take the sofa-bed."

"All right," Jamison concluded.  
He stayed until the ambulance with all the necessary equipment arrived and was set up in Starsky's bedroom. The nurse administered the IV and within three hours after the diagnosis, Starsky was hooked up once again.

The day ended in a strange mixture of chaos and lethargy, leaving everyone in the Starsky apartment exhausted when they went to sleep.

\-------------------------------

Luckily the strong antibiotics cure did its job and indeed, after 40 hours, Starsky's fever broke, much to the relief of the overly concerned and anxious Rachel and Hutch.

Like Rachel had said before, sleep was the best medicine for her son, so Starsky had slept most of the days away, only waking up to eat, drink or be washed -- all in bed.

As much as he hated having been thrown back into total dependence again, even Starsky had to admit that he was physically in no way capable of doing much more than rest.  
And so he acquiesced to his fate, closed his eyes and slept, choosing to spend his time in sweet oblivion rather than being reminded of his weakened condition. In his dreams, all was well and he was like he had always been inside his mind: Detective First Grade, Sergeant David Michael Starsky.

After three days of intravenous antibiotics, Starsky's temperature was back to normal and the infection was overcome. Jamison visited to confirm Starsky had conquered yet another crisis and all the equipment, as well as the round-the-clock nurse, could leave again, much to the relief of Starsky, Hutch and Rachel.


	6. THICKER THAN BLOOD

## THICKER THAN BLOOD

While the round-the-clock nurse had been a necessity, Hutch was happy to see her and her paraphernalia leave. It meant Starsky was finally doing much better and for that, Hutch was grateful. With Rachel tending to Starsky in the bedroom, Hutch was busy cleaning up the kitchen. Their first day without the round-the-clock nurse after Starsky's setback was odd. The hours seemed to stretch on endlessly in the quiet apartment. Starsky was asleep most of the time. This latest infection had taken its toll on his overall condition, and Rachel and Hutch were feeling their worry and fatigue settling into the very core of their beings more and more, too.

The ringing of the phone awoke Hutch from his reverie.

Rachel appeared in the doorway of Starsky's bedroom and Hutch signaled to her that he would answer the phone.

"Hello ---"

"Hey! Is mom there?"

The voice on the other side of the line caused Hutch to involuntarily shudder.  
"Nick --"

"Yeah, that's right. So, is she there?"

_Of course! Where else would she be you -----_  
"She's here, but she's busy right now," he answered tersely.

"Yeah, well could you tell her I'm on the phone? I need to talk to her," Nick persisted.

_That sonofa---- how the hell can two brothers born from the same set of parents differ so much?_  
"I'll take your message, and she'll get back to you later, okay?"

"Uhm, no -- not really, Hutch. Look man, could you just get her on the phone? I'm in kind of a rush, ya know?"

_What the hell could be so important for you to tear your mother away from your ailing brother's bedside you self-important bastard!_  
He inhaled deeply, concentrating on keeping his true emotions out of his voice as much as possible, when he replied.  
"Uhm, Nick. Your brother has not been doing so well these past few days and your mother is with him right now, giving him a bath. So if you don't mind, I'd really rather have you call back at a later time, all right?"

"Yeah man, ma told me. That sucks, huh? I hope he's doing better now. It's so hard seeing someone you love in so much pain. But look, where's Dave gonna go, right? He'll be there for her to continue with whatever, so could you just please ---"

_You heartless prick!_  
"Listen, you self centered piece of shit! Your brother may be out of the hospital, but he's far from being out of the woods! And by the way, Nick, when was the last time you were even near enough to actually see your brother's pain with your own eyes, huh? You've got some nerve to -----"

"HUTCH!"

Rachel's voice interrupted Hutch's rant. He looked up in shock. His eyes found that still attractive face he had come to know so well since the shooting occurred. He held the phone out to her as she approached him.

The look she sent him as she accepted the receiver told Hutch that Rachel Starsky was going to have something to say about his outburst, and he nodded his head in understanding.  
He heard her greet her youngest son while he walked into Starsky's bedroom, where he found his partner. Starsky was already sound asleep again, just a few minutes after his mother had finished bathing him.

_I don't get it, Starsk - _Hutch's thoughts were a whirlwind inside his mind - _Nick pulls off the craziest stunts, unprotected, untrained. His mouth and attitude will get him into more trouble than any sane person would voluntarily go look for. And yet, guys like him always come away clean. And you --- you go and risk your life for the benefit of others, strangers often, and what's your reward? A couple more bullet holes every two, three years?_

Inside the living room Rachel talked with her youngest son. Her heart also ached for him, but in a completely different way from Hutch's.  
"Nick, I really don't think that's such a good idea. Why don't you keep some of your money in a saving's account --- just to be on the safe side, huh?"  
She listened to Nick's excited explanation about yet another business venture that would be his big financial break.  
"Nick, you're not a kid anymore. You're a grown man, and soon you'll have responsibilities, or have ya forgotten about Stella?  
(----) How can you be so sure she's not expecting your child? You're not exactly a choirboy, Nicky!  
(----) I dunno --- I dunno, Nick. Sometimes I just wish ----  
(----) No! That's not what I was gonna say. But now that you brought it up, yourself --- when **are** ya gonna visit with Dave? He's been asking for ya. He misses you, ya know?  
(----) Oh, sweetie, I'm -- I'm sorry (---) I know (----)"

Rachel sighed. Nick was his own worst enemy and still had a lot of personal demons to overcome. Demons that had been haunting him since he was a kid.  
"Okay. Okay sweetheart. I'll wire you the five hundred. But call me, ya hear? And for God's sake, be careful!  
(----) I know. I'll tell him you said that. Goodbye, sweetheart."

She didn't have to look up to feel Hutch's presence in the doorway to Starsky's bedroom.  
"Come sit with me, Ken. I feel you need to know a few things about Davey and Nicky."

Rachel gestured Hutch should take a seat at the dining table, while she fetched the both of them some coffee.  
When she sat down opposite him, she looked him straight in the eyes.  
"I know you and Nicky don't see eye to eye on many things, Ken. But he really isn't all bad, ya know? Him and Davey --- well, they've got a history together. A history that started long before Dave met you. If you think Nick is bad news, you wouldn't believe the way Dave was.  
As a matter of fact, Dave was ten times as bad as Nick, because he was so much younger than him and he got into much worse trouble than Nick's ever known. You know I had to send Dave away, otherwise he would've ended up in juvenile detention back East. And all of a sudden little Nicky was without a role model. His dad dead and his older brother gone, all within less than two years time! I guess he never got over that."

As much as he tried to empathize with Nick, after what Rachel was telling him, Hutch couldn't help but interrupt.  
"Yes, but Rachel. As you just said, he **is** a grown man now. I think almost everybody has had a stage of rebellion and anarchism, but most of us grow out of it. I hate to be rude but, as I see it, Nick never felt a need to grow up, to face up to his mistakes and to live up to his responsibilities!"

Rachel's eyes bore into Hutch's.  
"Maybe I've pampered him too much. He was all that I had left ----"

"I'm not blaming you, Rachel ---- I'm just ---" Hutch stumbled over his words, cursing himself for creating the illusion of blame on Rachel. He adored his partner's mother and was completely aware of her immense hardship over the years.

"I know, I know ya don't --- don't worry," Rachel reassured him, while patting his hand.  
"Don'tcha think I've analyzed the 'whys' and 'hows' myself? If it had been Nick who was sent away and Dave who'd remained with me in NY, I'm sure Nick wouldn't have turned his life around the way Dave has. It's a matter of character --- personality."

She sighed deeply.  
"What is that saying again? 'Brothers by chance. Friends by choice'? Dave has tried many times to help turn Nick's life around, after he had found his path in life. But Nick somehow couldn't do it. He's always tried to change Nick and make him the way you are, Ken. That wasn't always easy on Nick. You know how stubborn and flammable Dave is? His attempts to get closer with Nick often resulted in just the opposite. He would get on Nick's nerves and push him away even further.  
It wasn't until the two of **you** met, that Dave finally stopped trying. And Nick has always been trying to please Dave, in his own way. But I guess they are just not compatible, despite being brothers. And now Nick's sorry. He envies the bond you have with Dave, but deep inside he knows he can never change enough to have something similar to that with his brother, so he's finally stopped trying, too. It's not that they've given up on each other, Ken. It's just that they understand people can sometimes get along better with those they are not related to by blood. It's not that they don't love each other --- it's just that they're too different from each other to be as close as you and Dave are. And it's not that he doesn't care about his brother's well being, that he seems to lack interest in Dave's rehabilitation. I know he cares, because it's always the first thing he asks about when he calls."

Rachel squeezed Hutch's hand to make his eyes meet hers. She noticed his eyes were misty.  
"So, now you know a bit more about Nick. He's just human, Ken. And if Dave can forgive him, so should you ----."

Hutch nodded his head and kissed Rachel's hand.

"Hutch!"  
Starsky's voice broke the silence. He sounded surprisingly strong. Rachel let Hutch go be with her son. She knew Hutch had understood what she had told him.

"Hey buddy, how are you feeling, huh?" Hutch asked with a weary, tentative smile.

"Better. You?" Starsky asked, his eyes looking the brightest they had since he had returned home.

"I'm okay," Hutch said, as he sat in the chair next to his friend's bed.

"What's wrong?" Starsky asked, after having studied Hutch a bit closer.

"Wrong? What could be wrong? What are you talking about?" Hutch replied, a tad too defensive.

"C'mon, spill. I could hear you 'n mom talkin'. Just couldn't make out the words. Are you guys okay?"

Hutch sighed. He wasn't sure he'd wanted to have a serious discussion with Starsky, so quickly after overcoming his infection. He looked up into Starsky's face and was met with a determined look from his partner. _Oh, he's back all right. He's not going to let it go ----_  
So Hutch gathered all his courage before opening the touchy subject.  
"We just had a talk --- about Nick."

Silence.

"What was the occasion? Did he call?"

_You don't miss a beat, buddy!_  
"Yes. And yes, you don't even have to ask --- he got on my nerves again. I got riled and your mom caught me."

"Uh-huh."

The two detectives were lost in their own thoughts for a brief moment.

"It's okay, ya know, Hutch? Let it go. He's really not a bad kid."

"Kid? Starsk, he's ----." Hutch bit his lower lip.  
_I wasn't going to do this. I shouldn't do this! He just overcame another crisis, for goodness sake._

"Nick's a kid --- he'll always be a kid. Just like **you** think **I'm** never gonna grow up, **I** don't think **he's** ever gonna grow up. It's the same thing, only different. He means well. It's just the way he is. Don't be too hard on him, Hutch. He's tryin'."

"But Starsk ---"

"He cares, Hutch. I know he does. Sometimes you don't hafta be with somebody to **be** there for them, ya know? I know he cares in his own way. That's enough for me."

Hutch looked up at his partner and studied that familiar face, the look in those unique eyes.  
_In some ways you're wiser than I'll ever be, buddy. For now I'll trust your word and your gut feeling about Nick. But it will be a long time before I will have reached your level of understanding for him ----_

\-----------------------------------------------------

Starsky had a peaceful first night without the presence of the round-the-clock nurse and steadily, yet slowly, continued to improve and to feel better.

As a matter of fact, he felt so well on the second day without the nurse, that he convinced his mother to visit with her sister Rosey for the day so he and Hutch were left alone in the apartment.  
After having spent so much time asleep in bed, Starsky spent as much time as possible in the living room on the couch, watching TV and taking an occasional nap.  
Meanwhile, Hutch was sitting at the table, still studying the files for the trial against James Marshall Gunther.

"Can I take a peek?"

Starsky's question jolted Hutch from his concentrated reading of the Gunther file.  
"Huh?"

"Can I take a peek? -----What'y're readin'?"

Hutch really didn't feel like handing the file with the gory photos of the cement ground of the police station parking lot over to Starsky. Not at any time, but particularly not now that he had just done battle with a serious infection.   
He looked at the file, then looked over at Starsky who was lying on the couch. With his immune system still operating way below par, this latest setback had drained him of all the energy he'd managed to recover during his recuperation. What resistance he had built up in the weeks leading to his release from the hospital, was already gone after being laid up again.

"Hey? Didn'tcha hear me? Lemme take a look, will ya?" Starsky hoarsely called out.

"Uhm, you know, Starsk? I don't think it's such a good idea to ---" Hutch started.

"Will you come on, already? Hand me that file!" Starsky demanded.

Hutch sighed, opened his mouth to protest, but the look in Starsky's eyes told him this was a no win situation so, reluctantly, he walked over to the couch and handed the file to his friend.

In silence, Starsky's eyes went over the words on the first page, then found the photos on the next.  
He gasped.

Hutch held his breath. This was the first time Starsky, or he for that matter, had been confronted with the enormous amount of blood Starsky had lost in the police station parking lot. It looked like a scene from a cheap horror movie.

Starsky swallowed. Then he said something that filled Hutch's eyes instantly with tears.  
"Sheesh, look at all that blood ---- that musta scared the shit out of you, Hutch! You musta thought I had nothin' left!"  
He showed his amazement by letting out a whistle.  
"I had no idea ----" Starsky looked up at Hutch, who immediately looked away, cursing the moisture in his eyes,  
"----I had no idea we **had **so much blood."

Stunned, Hutch looked down at his friend again. Starsky was serious. A warm feeling overtook the blond detective.  
_Some part of you will really always stay a kid, won't it buddy?_

He smiled wearily at Starsky, then listened to the clock chiming.  
"Listen, I'd better finish up reading this and lock it away again. Your mom is about to come back from her sister's and she hasn't seen this yet."

"And she shouldn't!" Starsky added, adamantly.  
"Thanks, Hutch," he said, softly.

"Yeah ---" Hutch replied, before sitting back down at the dinner table to continue studying the file.


	7. COMING TO TERMS

## COMING TO TERMS

So, the first ten days at home were filled with ups and - mostly - downs. Starsky spent the majority of the time he had actually been at home sleeping off his fatigue and infection. Then, when able, he went back to the lighter stretching exercises done in bed, administered by Moses before he was finally able to live more according to the new 'home rules'. The promised visits by friends, many of whom had attended his welcome home party, had to be postponed because Starsky's condition simply did not allow for much excitement. The fact that Starsky spent so much time in bed and asleep did not make Hutch and Rachel's task of taking care of him any easier. On the contrary, since they often had to wash, change and feed him in bed, it put an added physical strain on the caregivers, in addition to the mental strain of having to witness Starsky's physical agony. His spirit, however, was indomitable as always.

Slowly but surely Starsky overcame the infection and regained his strength and energy.  
By the twelfth day since his release from the hospital, he only took three short naps throughout the day and began doing light exercises to improve his motor skills. Whenever Starsky felt well enough, Hutch even added a light half-hour physical therapy session with floor exercises, which Moses had taught him to do with Starsky.

But Starsky's boredom from sitting cooped up inside his apartment all the time was beginning to reach dangerous levels. Although it was late July, the breeze outside was a bit nippy and his general condition was still under par, so the hospital staff and Moses thought it wiser for him not to go outside just yet.

During his third week at home, however, the breeze changed direction and the weather warmed up considerably.

Despite the fact that he had a day off, Moses still came by for Starsky's daily physical therapy session. He sent Hutch and Rachel out to re-stock the fridge. He knew that even though Starsky had only been home for a short while, his mother and partner deserved a break from their round-the-clock caring for Starsky. Their task had been much harder then anyone could have imagined beforehand.

After their session, Moses helped clean up Starsky and carried him downstairs to the car, so the healing detective could meet Dr. Jamison at the hospital for his check up.  
Once at the hospital, Starsky insisted he walk in without any assistance except that of Moses' strong arms. Moses left Starsky seated in the corridor opposite Dr. Jamison's room while he went to the nurses' station to pick up his schedule.  
As Starsky practiced his patience, waiting for his turn, he suddenly was startled by a noise that sounded alarmingly like a lovesick moose.

"DAVE!!!!"

Starsky looked up and groaned. Waddling towards him was the hospital volunteer from hell. Granted, all the woman had ever done - in her own peculiar way - was be nice to him for the better part of his hospital stay, but excessively so, and to such an extent, that it made him contemplate having her banned from his bedside.

Having been raised properly and being the gentleman that he was, Starsky rose from his seat with some effort and to his shock, immediately found himself squashed in the large woman's embrace.

"Oh, Dave! How **wonderful** to see you, how **are** you now?" the woman exclaimed excitedly.

"Fine ---" he managed from the death grip she had on him, a bit unnerved by her warm greeting.  
"Uhm, Bridget -- Bridget, please could you ---?" he croaked.

Bridget Wannamaker came to the realization she was hugging Starsky a bit too enthusiastically.   
"Oh, Dave, I'm so sorry," she gasped and released Starsky but grabbed on to both his hands instead.  
She beamed happily at Starsky and held on to him as she looked him over while the pair of them stood square in the middle of the hospital corridor.

Just as she was about to speak to Starsky, an orderly tried to pass them while pushing a laundry cart and bumped into Bridget's formidable behind. The collision absolutely did not affect the hospital volunteer but the poor orderly ricocheted off the enormous woman and fell on the floor. Starsky rolled his eyes but Bridget didn't seem to have noticed the average size man even touched her obese mass.

"Uhm, Bridget --- " Starsky started hesitantly, immediately alarmed by the hopeful glint his addressing the woman by her first name caused in her eyes,  
"--- behind you ---" Starsky pointed at the poor man on the floor,  
"--- let's make some room so he can pass, okay?"

Since Bridget was about as wide as she was tall, she and Starsky moved into a vacant examination room so that the orderly could finally pass.  
Having Starsky all to herself now, the large woman's excitement only grew. Her face, which might have been attractive before obesity hit her with a vengeance, was all wrinkled up in a warm smile as she again looked over Starsky's entire form. Her chubby cheeks pushing from below and her fatty upper eyelids pushing from above, reduced her brown eyes to slits as she bared her perfect teeth in an adoring smile to the curly haired man in front of her.

"Oh gosh! Look at you! You look so --- so --- wonderful!!!" she exclaimed, while her Buddha like cheeks were beginning to color.  
"You know, me and the gang all miss you like crazy, Dave! We **loved** taking care of you! Well, of course we were very sad for you, I mean, that you had to be in the hospital and for so long! That you were in so much pain for so long. Yet, on the other hand, we loved having you here too, because you **really** were our favorite patient! Even if you weren't always nice to us. Despite all that we still kept loving you! But then, I guess you probably noticed that, too, didn't you? Oh, gosh, I'm babbling again, " she laughed her mule-like laugh and blushed like the wallflower she was.

By her 'gang' Bridget meant a number of her hospital co-volunteers, a small group of women who all seemed to have been played some unfortunate trick by nature, or fate or both, who clung together as a tiny "self help" cheer group for the pitiful.   
Wherever one went, the rest followed blindly. Whichever opinion one of the group, rightfully or wrongfully, held the others shared slavishly. Thus it could happen that once one member of this group of society's misfits discovered him, Starsky had had the misfortune to become the object of their care and affection, when he was at his most vulnerable. While he was bedridden and couldn't escape, the group of hospital volunteers threw their attention at the wildly attractive and helpless man with a dedication and adoration that was suffocating.

At first Hutch, and even Starsky, was amused by the antics of the unattractive group.   
Kind and charming, and well raised as they were, both detectives had been pleasant in their communication with the ladies. After all, they meant no harm.   
After a while though, their behavior became more clinging and possessive. The individual members of the group lavished Starsky not only with more time and attention than any other patient the group volunteered to visit. They also began bestowing him with gifts and more than their share of physical assistance and caring.

On one occasion, Bridget had brought him a huge teddy bear, which must have cost her quite a bit. The gift embarrassed Starsky as it began to dawn on him that the grossly obese woman had some kind of crush on him. Her behavior reminded him of Hutch's former cleaning lady, FiFi. She, too, had a crush, but on his partner. She, too, was a large woman, although compared to Bridget she was Miss America material.

So he had tactfully declined to accept the gift, but Bridget had stubbornly insisted he keep it and so, reluctantly, he had.  
The next time however, she brought him expensive after-shave. The only reason why she took that gift back was because Hutch helped Starsky in his plea to her not to bring him any more gifts and to please not take it the wrong way.

After that Bridget calmed down a bit, but only for a while. As soon as Starsky was able to sit up in bed, she began giving him books to read. The non-fiction paperbacks became fiction paperbacks until finally the books she gave him to read were all love stories and poetry bundles.

Soon after, as Starsky was lying awake, but with closed eyes, he overheard the group of hospital volunteers just outside his open door whispering excitedly to each other. He was shocked when he found out he had become the object of their less than desirable obsession as he heard Bridget informing the group of her supposedly "intimate" relationship with him.  
He had told Hutch and Moses about the disturbed behavior of the women, but had urged Moses he didn't want them to lose the opportunity to help out around the hospital, so long as they would leave **him** alone. Hutch had advised Starsky to either give the teddy bear back to Bridget or give it to the children's ward.

During one visiting hour, with Hutch by his side, Starsky had very kindly informed Bridget he appreciated her kindness but that he was sure there were many more patients around in the hospital who could use some cheering up more than he did. He also told her he'd feel better if the wonderful teddy bear she'd given him found a better home at the children's ward and asked her for permission to send it there.

The way he explained things to her couldn't have been more sincere and kind but Bridget, in her warped mind, had felt like "a woman scorned" and had thumped out of his room in a huff not returning during the rest of his stay there. Naturally her faithful 'gang' mimicked her behavior and from that day on, Starsky went from being the most pampered patient to becoming the hospital's persona non grata; at least to one group of unattractive volunteers.

Therefore, he was now eyeing the grotesque woman opposite him with suspicion. The last time he'd seen her in the hospital was a few days before his release, when she had demonstratively turned her back to him as he was practicing in the corridor with his walker, and her faithful gang had followed her example.  
Right now, however, she was happily standing nose to nose with him and was still forcefully holding on to him.

He was beginning to wonder what was keeping Moses so long. Starsky knew he had no chance to escape the hospital volunteer. She was almost his height, and even if he had been back to his own weight, he would still easily fit three times inside her frame. He dared not try to fight her grip. Still unstable on his feet, he feared he might trip if he'd try to free himself and be squashed under a mountain of her blubbering flesh.

"You know, Dave," Bridget began in a scornful tone,  
"You weren't being very nice when you returned my gifts."

Before he knew it Starsky blurted out,  
"Oh, come on! Not that again, Bridget!"

"I still don't understand why you would put such pressure on our relationship," the large woman continued.  
Starsky was seriously beginning to get nervous, feeling helpless as his condition kept him from being able to just leave.

"You know, love is all about giving and receiving, Dave, and I can't be the only one in this relationship who gives," Bridget rambled on,  
"Haven't I always been there for you? You just needed to call and I was right there for you. I knew when you needed something even before you did. I took such good care of you and you turned me down. That's not nice. Especially not after all I've given to you and I never asked for anything in return."

Starsky was beginning to get upset and started squirming to loosen the tight grip big Bridget had on him, but to no avail.  
Just as Bridget wanted to continue her monologue, Moses appeared in the doorway.  
"Sheesh, Mo, get her the hell outta here," a shaken Starsky exclaimed.

"No, no, I have to stay with you, Dave. I love you," Bridget cried out.

Moses grabbed the large woman by one of her flabby arms and extracted Starsky from her grip. Then he assisted Starsky over to a chair in the room while still holding on to Bridget.  
"You stay here, I'll be right back," Moses told Starsky before turning his attention to Bridget,  
"And you. You belong in a hospital all right, just not on this floor! Come with me," he barked at the shapeless woman as he began maneuvering her out the room.

"Mo!" Starsky called after him.  
"She's ----" his eyes found Mo's eyes and the detective and the big, black man knew each other well enough for the latter to understand what Starsky meant.

_She's sad. Sick - and sad._

"I know," Moses softly replied,  
"I'll make sure they'll treat her with care. I'll be right back. Stay put."

Starsky remained by himself in the empty examination room. The incident had left him shaking in his seat. He couldn't remember ever before having felt this helpless, out of control and vulnerable.

Soon Moses returned.  
"Well, that was that," he tried to keep his tone light as he immediately noticed Starsky's emotional state.  
"I think you're up next for Dr. Jamison."

Moses held his hands out so Starsky could pull himself up. Instead the detective remained seated, looking ahead of him, as he softly said,  
"She freaked me out, Mo. I mean, I couldn't do a thing --- I couldn't even get away from her!"  
Starsky looked up at Moses, his eyes those of a frightened little boy.  
"Helpless --- can't even stand up to a woman anymore ----" he muttered.

Moses looked sternly at Starsky for a moment, then answered.  
"I got no idea what you're talkin' about. That load of blubber? Hell, that was no woman! Man, I'm not even sure that piece of lard was human! And don't you go feelin' bad about yourself, ya hear that? Ya got a reputation to keep up here. Remember you're our 'miracle man'. We can't have ya gettin' down on yourself, just because of an encounter with Bigfoot! Shape up, man --- quit embarrassing me! Now, get up or I'm gonna get an earful from Jamison for gettin' you in here too late. Come on, move it!"

Starsky's mood changed right away and he let Moses assist him into Dr. Jamison's office.  
There he was examined thoroughly and received the green light to go outside every day, as long as he was dressed warmly enough. Jamison seemed surprised to see how Starsky had bounced back from his tough first weeks at home and he was genuinely pleased with Starsky's condition. His remarks to the detective had the effect of a pep talk. Moses was glad to see all the insecurity and bad feelings after the encounter with the disturbed woman had disappeared and his patient's optimistic character shone through once more.  
He excused himself, while a nurse helped Starsky get dressed again, and called Starsky's apartment. Luckily Hutch and Rachel had returned home already.  
Moses told them the good news and suggested they make a day of it.

On their way back to the apartment, Moses asked Starsky,  
"So, how you feeling? Good visit with the doc, huh?"

Beaming, Starsky looked at Moses.  
"Yep. Feel great." He sighed.  
"I got a lot to be thankful for --- you're a big part of that. I wouldn't know where I'd be now if you wouldn'ta pushed me, ya know."

"Hey --- this from the guy who don't like soapy scenes? Don't go weird on me now, Dave!"

They looked at each other and smiled.

Moses picked up the conversation again.  
"What do you say we celebrate the good news, huh? Are you feeling up to it?"

Starsky looked at Moses, with a childlike, expectant look of wonder on his face.  
"Celebrate? Why? How?"

"Celebrate, man! You got the okay to get out in the sun, right? So how about us all going out for a picnic in the park or something? Ya think you can handle that today, or are you too tired?"

A wide grin spread across Starsky's face.  
"Sounds terrific!" He looked out the window, then turned back to Moses.  
"But this is your day off! I don't wanna ruin your plans."

"This **is **my plan, dummy! Didn't I just make it up a second ago, huh? Ya really gotta stay with it, Dave. You're worrying me here!" Mo winked at Starsky.

Again the two men smiled at each other as they turned onto Starsky's street.

Hutch and Rachel had packed some of the new groceries in a picnic basket and were all ready to join the party. After a ten-minute drive in Moses' four-door Chevy, they were at the park. Because of the park's winding and sometimes slightly inclining paths it was decided Starsky would use the wheelchair instead of the walker, since he was still too unsteady on his feet. So Starsky got out of the car and took his place in the wheelchair, pushed by Hutch.

They found a nice spot by the pond near a picnic table and unpacked the basket.  
Hutch was moved by Starsky's obvious joy in being out in the fresh air again, feeling the sun on his skin. _A tan will do him good_ Hutch thought while watching Starsky who was still uncharacteristically pale. When he noticed some rare ducks and two pairs of swans in the pond he thought he'd take a closer look with his friend. But first he walked over to Rachel and Moses, who were setting up the picnic table.

"Rachel, did you pack some extra bread? I think I've just found a way to get in a little more exercise today," Hutch winked at Moses then pointed at the birds in the pond.

"Not bad, Blondie!" Moses grinned,  
"Quick thinking, have you ever thought of becomin' a detective?"

Hutch rolled his eyes demonstratively and then took the bread Rachel had given him up to Starsky.  
"Hey, buddy, look what I've got here," Hutch started.

Starsky was unresponsive which immediately alerted Hutch.  
"Hey, Starsk? What's the matter? Are you all right?"

Starsky awoke from his reverie.  
"Yeah --- 'M fine," he answered softly.

Hutch knelt next to the wheelchair and looked up at his friend.  
"Boy, **that** was convincing!" he snorted.  
"What's bothering you?"

Starsky was in the process of replying but Hutch beat him to it.  
"And **don't** say 'nothing' because we both know that's not true. Spill it, Starsk," Hutch said.

Starsky sighed and decided to just tell it like it was.  
"Bumped into one of the loony tunes," he said softly.

In turn, Hutch sighed as his eyes went over the water's surface.  
"Which one?"

"The big one."

"What happened?"

"Nothin' much. She just --- well, she's just so overbearing --- ya know? Last time I saw her, she hated me, this mornin' she was all over me --- all cuddly again ----"

Again Hutch sighed.  
"Well, ya know buddy, that poor misguided soul has her own distorted vision of reality. She and her merry band of wallflowers live in a parallel universe. Don't let it get to you. You're out of the hospital. You're safe from them now."

Hutch looked up at Starsky again, then stood back up.  
He needed to get Starsky out of his contemplative mood, so again he baited his partner with the bread.  
"Here, take a look at this, huh?"

Starsky took the bread from Hutch, studied it and frowned.  
"There's nothin' **on** this!" he complained, thinking it was his share of the picnic dish.

"It's not for you, dummy! Look over there. It's for the birds," Hutch said in a cheerful voice as he pushed Starsky's chair closer to the pond.

Starsky flipped his head back to take a look at his partner.  
"We're **not** gonna feed the birds?!" he whined, incredulously.

"Yes, Gordo, we're gonna feed the birds. It's gonna be **fun**, **you'll **see," Hutch answered enthusiastically.

"Feedin' birds is for toddlers and senior citizens for chrissake!" Starsky protested.

"Well, you act like a toddler and you complain like a senior citizen, so it's just the thing for you!" Hutch stopped the chair and put on the breaks.  
He bent over Starsky while he was leaning on the handles until his face was next to his partner's.  
"Those ducks over there? With those orange beaks, you see them? They're not from this region. As a matter of fact, I've never seen them in the States before. And look at those beautiful swans, huh, Starsk. Aren't they just majestic?"

Starsky glanced sideways at his partner.  
"Since when are ya such a bird watcher? I mean the kind with wings, not the kind with thingamajigs."

Hutch sighed.  
"**You** know I love nature! I've **always **loved watching birds, **any** animal, really. It's so wonderful, the miracle of nature. There, look at that gorgeous swan. They're coming this way, Starsk, get out your bread."

"And I thought I knew all the strange things about you already," Starsky muttered as he got out the bread.

Hutch watched his partner closely.  
"Now break it up into small pieces."

He anxiously watched Starsky's fumbling hands clumsily pulling the bread into smaller pieces.  
"Oh, it fell," Starsky mumbled as some of the pieces dropped on the ground around the wheelchair.

Soon the birds discovered there was food to be had and exited the water on their way to the treats.

"Look, Starsk, they're coming --- why don't you throw some pieces to them, huh?"

"This is nuts," Starsky mumbled, but still gathered a few pieces in his left hand and with a weak throw, managed to launch them a few feet from the wheelchair.  
"Oh, **that** was good!" Starsky said, in a sarcastic tone.

"Well, try again, a little farther this time," Hutch encouraged Starsky.

Again, Starsky threw some bread in the direction of the birds. This time he managed perhaps a foot more than the first throw.

"Very good, Starsk," Hutch beamed with pride.

Starsky wasn't as convinced.  
"I bet I can throw farther if I stand," he suggested.

Hutch wasn't sure that was such a good idea, but when his eyes met Starsky's all he could see was the innocence of the child that still inhabited his partner.  
"Okay, buddy, hold on," he softly said and helped Starsky out of the chair. As Hutch held him by his right arm and waist, Starsky swung his left arm back and managed a wonderful throw, swaying slightly on his feet from the effort. But Hutch had a good hold on his friend and warmed up at the sight of his partner's joy over his accomplishment.

"All right! Not bad, huh?" Starsky asked with sparkling eyes and a grin so wide it made the sun look pale in comparison.

"Not bad at all, Gordo," Hutch beamed back at his partner.  
"Now, remember how far you got **this** time. Next time you must break your record!"

"You're such a softie, ain't ya?" Starsky said, as he looked at his partner.

"Wh--- what do you mean? What are you talking about?" Hutch fumbled.

"Nothin'. Thanks for bein' here, Blintz. I owe ya," Starsky softly said.

Hutch swallowed hard. He hated how Starsky could get straight to his heart, with seemingly unrelated remarks.  
"You don't owe me anything, Starsk. I'm just glad you're still here to aggravate me." He didn't trust himself to look Starsky in the eye.

"Well --- in **that** case, lemme go cos I wanna get me somethin' ta eat before the big fella picks all the good sandwiches!" Starsky bluffed.

Hutch instantly returned to his normal reaction to Starsky's antics as he looked at his partner, rolled his eyes and said,  
"Okay tough guy, by the time you've crawled to the picnic table we'll be in the parking lot. Now, come on, sit down!"

He wheeled Starsky back to the picnic table and the group spent some peaceful hours in the park.


	8. IT'S GETTING BETTER ALL THE TIME

## IT'S GETTING BETTER ALL THE TIME

Today was a special day. It was the first time since the shooting that David Michael Starsky was walking down the stairs, for the most part under his own power. A simple thing really, but for Starsky, it was an accomplishment of monumental proportions, which was being treated as such by the people who had been with him every step of the way.   
Step by - slow - step Starsky descended the stairs, Hutch and Rachel behind him, Moses backing down the stairs a few steps ahead of him.

He had always wondered why many of the medical staff had made such a big deal out of him being ready to walk down a flight of stairs.  
He wondered no more.  
As he walked down the stairs he felt aches all over his body he had never felt before.   
He felt muscles working underneath his skin, that he wasn't even aware existed.   
He felt his entire body tremble from exertion; his legs felt like jelly, his knees almost buckled with each step.   
He could feel the sweat forming underneath his curls, making his scalp damp and sticky.   
He felt the sweat underneath his shirt making it stick to his chest.   
And he could hear the sound of his breath, deep and ragged, as if he were running a marathon instead of descending the stairs at a snail's pace.

Two-thirds of the way down the stairs his knees almost buckled for real.  
"Hold on, I've got ya!" Moses was beside him in a second, holding him upright with his massively muscular arms. Rachel covered her mouth with her hand to mute a gasp of worry and Hutch looked on pensively just a few steps behind Starsky.

"Are you gonna be all right to finish now, or do you want to take a break and sit down for a second?" Moses asked.

Starsky looked down the stairs - only a few more steps to go.  
"If I sit down now, I might not get up again," he heard a strange, panting and wavering voice say. He didn't even sound like himself. Everything about him seemed wobbly and insecure.

After having rested for a minute he signaled to Moses he wanted to continue. And so the men continued until they reached the bottom of the stairs where the wheelchair awaited them.

Starsky had to sit down for a minute on one of the steps.   
He was a mass of conflicting emotions.   
He was bursting with pride for having made it down the stairs pretty much by himself in one straight go on this early August afternoon, for the first time since he was shot.   
On the other hand he was overwhelmed by the fact that it, only now, was beginning to sink in just how much the shooting was affecting him physically. Sure, even when he walked on level ground he was still light years removed from his pre-shooting self, but at least he was walking without too much pain or any other trouble. Just a tad insecure, just a tad wobbly.

Tackling these stairs, however, literally made him painfully aware that something inside his body had been terribly damaged and still was a long way from being healed. For a fleeting moment the thought entered his mind that perhaps things would never return to the way they had been before. That now this was his future: being slow, unsure and in constant need of help or at least guiding. The thought made him shiver.

"Are you cold?" Moses instantly asked, concerned that the light breeze might cause his sweaty patient to develop a cold or worse.

He looked up at his public.   
The big black man who was instrumental in all his achievements so far, his mother who had to return to her role as mother as if he were still a little boy, and the tall blond, who was - and had been for years now - a constant source of support and care.  
"Nah, I'm fine," he was glad to hear his voice sounded more like his own again.  
"I'm ready. What do we do now?"

Moses and Hutch smiled at him and then at each other.  
"Well, there's your chair. I suggest you grab the handlebars and use it as your walker. As soon as you think you can't go any further, you just sit down in the chair and either your mom or Hutch will take it from there, okay?"

The partners looked at each other and nodded.

"I've got a patient now, but I think I can be back in about an hour or two. So if you folks make sure you're here then, I can help get you back upstairs. How's that for a plan?"

"Fantastic," Starsky exclaimed enthusiastically. He was so pleased to be spending so much time outside even if he'd had to compromise. He originally had claimed he could walk by himself, without the aid of a wheelchair or walker. But that was before he'd tackled the stairs for the first time. Now he was glad he was overruled and that Moses had suggested they'd bring the chair.

"Okay, see you peeps later then. Have fun!" Moses said and turned to get his car. He stopped and turned back.  
"Don't overdo it, huh?" He shook his index finger at Starsky.

"Ya been spendin' way too much time with the Blintz here!" Starsky called out to him, rolling his eyes.

Moses and Hutch smiled at each other and Hutch shook his head.  
"Thanks, Mo, see you later," he softly said.

"Right on," and Moses left for his car.

"Well," Rachel sighed as she beamed at her son,  
"Are you ready?"

Starsky looked up at his mother and partner.  
"No time like the present," he said in as light a tone as he could muster considering his nervous state.

He looked up at Hutch who immediately stepped forward to pull up his friend. Then he shuffled over to the wheelchair and grabbed the handlebars. He looked over his shoulder to see what was keeping his mother and Hutch, only to see his mother run up the stairs again.

"Hey, ma?!" he looked at Hutch who was still standing at the bottom of the stairs.  
"Where's she goin'?" he asked.

Hutch was just about to explain when Rachel burst out of the apartment again and quickly descended the stairs.  
"I've gotta get this on film," she panted as she maneuvered herself a few feet ahead of her son.

Starsky just stood there, looking at his mother openmouthed.  
Hutch was beginning to chuckle. It was clear to see where his partner got his enthusiasm and weird ideas. Soon the discussion between mother and son began.

"Ma! What's with the camera? Enough already!"

"Whaddaya mean 'what's with the camera'?! This is a historic moment! We gotta capture this," Rachel exclaimed enthusiastically while frantically adjusting the camera's lens. She had taken up the habit of capturing all of her son's milestones on camera, to save for posterity.

"Historic mo ---- what the?" flabbergasted Starsky looked at his partner.

"Your first steps outside, dummy! Go ahead, sweetheart, go ahead!" Rachel encouraged her son.

"Ma, this is nuts. I'm not gonna --- people are watchin' --- will you put down that camera!" Starsky whined.

"Shut up! Go ahead, sweetheart, start walkin'."

"Hutch, will you tell her to put down that camera?" Starsky tried to get his partner to stand by him.

"I think your mom is right, Starsk. This **is** a historical moment. Go ahead, humor us. You are going to love it once you're back in shape again, trust me."

"For Chrissake ---" Starsky mumbled and followed it by some more unintelligible rumblings.

"Move it, sweetheart, we've only got two hours before Moses returns!" Rachel said, sounding stern now.

Starsky sighed deeply and began walking down the sidewalk.

Rachel snapped a few pictures while cheering on her son.  
"Doin' good, Davey! Oh, this is terrific. Isn't he doing fantastic, Hutch?"

Hutch was close to tears. The sight of his best friend behind the wheelchair, taking his first walk outside since leaving the hospital, suddenly overwhelmed him. Almost three months ago his world had stopped when he found Starsky in a pool of his own blood on the concrete of the police station parking lot, and now some three weeks since his homecoming, here was the miracle man, 'stepping out' on the sidewalk.

Starsky called over his shoulder,  
"Hey, Hutch? What's keepin' ya? Whassamatter, Golden Boy?   
Ya still can't beat me, not even now?"  
Starsky could totally visualize what Hutch was doing now, and he was right.

Hutch was shaking his head and slowly walked up to his partner and friend. Once he was standing next to Starsky the latter reassuringly smiled at him and said,  
"You're pathetic. Ya better work on your condition!" He winked at Hutch.

"You know something, Starsk? If it weren't for your mother being here, I might just be tempted to shut that cocky mouth of yours with force!" he said in mock indignation.

Slowly they continued walking the pavement, Rachel still ahead of them snapping pictures.  
"Oh yeah?" Starsky replied, even more cocky now.  
"And just who are ya gonna bring with ya to give you a hand with that?"

Hutch had no reply and again just shook his head.  
"Oh, just walk on, Motor Mouth!"

\--------------------------

Later in that first week of August, Starsky, Hutch and Rachel were invited over to the Dobey's for a day of fun, sun and barbecue. Edith had made huge bowls of several types of salads, and her husband had bought enough meat to feed an army. The Dobey's wanted to make sure their guests would leave with their doggy bags well filled.

Slowly getting more stable on his feet, Starsky had completely done away with using the wheelchair, on even grounds. When visiting the park, the wheelchair would still be brought along to tackle the inclining paths. But as his progress continued, Starsky demanded his companions let him start out walking with the wheelchair for support, until fatigue or the steady incline of the path would force him to spend the rest of the walk **in** the chair.   
Moses was impressed by Starsky's dogged determination to get back to normal as soon as possible.

Hutch, however, was developing mixed feelings over his friend's progress.  
On the one hand he was extremely happy for Starsky, when it looked like he might just come away from the shooting with only exterior scarring. On the other hand, the idea of Starsky's, possibly full, recovery gave him mild anxiety attacks when he contemplated their future together as cops. For the time being, he pushed those feelings aside to help Starsky in every way he could to become whole again.

While Captain Dobey was roasting the meat, and Rachel and Edith were taking care of the other dishes and were setting the table, Hutch, Cal, Starsky and even little Rosie were playing a restrained game of basketball by the hoop over the garage door.  
Of course the level of the game was a far cry from all the games the partners had played before the shooting, simply because of Starsky's impaired motor skills and unstable footing. But his enthusiasm was all there as he teamed up with Cal against Hutch and Rosie.

When little Rosie bumped into Starsky at one point during the game, he simply lost his balance, and fell unceremoniously on his behind. The rest of the players held their breath for a split second, until they realized Starsky was not brought down mentally by his fall at all, but instead yelled at the top of his lungs,  
"Foul play! Foul play! Midget attack on a convalescent! We get a free throw!"

Fifteen minutes of playing, however, cost the recuperating detective just about all his energy, so his mother stepped in and advised the players to unwind, wash up and be calm and clean in time before dinner. Her interference came not a moment too soon, because when Hutch supported Starsky to the downstairs bathroom in the Dobey home, he could feel his partner tremble from exhaustion, yet looking happier than he had in a long time.

The day at the Dobey residence was a big success and ended at night when the guests left with their stomachs full, and their minds pleased at the sight of Starsky's progress. Today had seemed almost like any other day, before the shooting. Good times shared with friends and untouched by pain, suffering and worries.


	9. THE FIRST CRACKS IN THE WHITE KNIGHT'S ARMOR

## THE FIRST CRACKS IN THE WHITE KNIGHT'S ARMOR

Nearly halfway in, the month of August turned out to be a scorcher. The humid heat was not easy on anyone, let alone on a convalescing detective with a healing lung injury.

More so than last month, the exercises with Moses were wearing Starsky out. But his motto was "no pain, no gain" so he decided to grin and bear it. He had been practicing the stairs to his apartment, with both Hutch and Moses assisting him in the beginning, and now these last few days he could get by with the help of only one of his friends. With the high humidity factor, however, Moses had decided to leave the training of the stairs for later, since it was putting too much of a strain on Starsky's weakened respiratory system.

They had continued visiting the park, almost on a daily basis, to practice Starsky's endurance and stability during walks. Each time, they'd walk a little farther, if only just a few feet, or walk a little longer, if only just ten more minutes than the day before. The wheelchair was still coming along, but was reduced to being used as a walker with each new day, and each new victory.

Moses and Starsky had developed their own unique language to keep the exercises fun and to keep Starsky motivated. Most of this newly created lingo eluded Hutch completely.

What could not go by unnoticed, however, were the grunts and the moans and groans of pain that would escape Starsky during the physical therapy sessions behind the closed door of his bedroom.  
One day after another visit to the park, Hutch found himself pacing the living room like a caged tiger. The sounds coming from Starsky’s bedroom were starting to get to him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it.   
How much pain was one man supposed to endure? One look at the clock, however, told Hutch that Starsky's session with Moses was only halfway done. He continued listening to Starsky's sounds of agony, followed by swearing and threats of bodily harm. Hutch had gotten to the point of seriously considering going in and breaking things up when the phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts.

He picked up the receiver on the second ring.   
"Hello," he said in a distracted voice, his eyes moving back to the closed door.

"Hey, Mr. America, what's happenin' at the Starsky residence?"  
It was Huggy.

"Hey, Hug. What's happening?"

"Man, don'tcha got your ears on? That's what I just asked you!" Huggy was starting to get concerned.  
"Everything all right down there?"

Hutch tried to focus on what Huggy was saying, but it was hard, when all he could hear was Starsky's pained outcries coming from the bedroom. They were gaining in strength and volume, and starting to grate on Hutch’s nerves.  
"I, uh, I’m here Hug, it’s just, Starsky’s in the middle of one of his therapy sessions and well---" Hutch let his voice trail off.

"I hear ya man, it ain’t easy, is it?"

"No, it isn’t," Hutch agreed. "I know it’s important, and I know he has to go through this if he’s going to get better, but I just never realized it would be this hard. I me--- I feel so helpless, and there’s nothing I can do for him."

"Ya gotta ease up on yourself Hutch. There are some things that are beyond your control, and this is one of ‘em," Huggy reasoned. "He is getting better, **you** know that! Which is why I'm calling by the way."

"What's that, Hug?"

"Well, since Curly is getting so much better, and word on the street has it he even had his first social outing down at the Dobey's of all places, I figured he might be up to slowly gettin' back in the groove again and hop over to my crib?"

"The Pits?"

"Where else?"

"Gee, I don't know, Hug. He's still on medication so he can't have any alcoholic drinks ---"

"Hey! Don't you got the two of you confused? **You're** beer, **he's** lemonade!" Huggy joked.

Huggy's remark finally eased the anxiety in Hutch enough to laugh along with his flamboyant friend. It was a short-lived relief, however.   
Suddenly a loud, piercing cry coming from the bedroom almost caused Hutch to drop the phone. Huggy heard it, too. Hutch mumbled a quick goodbye, hung up the phone and rushed to the bedroom door.

He burst into the room and stumbled upon Moses watching Starsky do leg-ups with weights around his ankles.  
Both Starsky and Moses looked at Hutch in surprise. Starsky looked flushed and was sweating profusely.  
"Yeah? What is it, Hutch?" Moses asked.

"Uhm, I, uh, I've got a, uh ---" Hutch fumbled to find an excuse.

Moses kept an unwavering gaze on Hutch, who started to blush lightly.  
"What?"

"Uh --- phone, the phone. There's a phone call for you," his usual eloquence had totally deserted Hutch.

"You stay put, I'll be right back," Moses told Starsky, who looked whipped, before following Hutch into the living room. Hutch doubled back and made a point of closing the door to the bedroom.

Moses noticed the receiver was still on the hook and turned to face Hutch.  
"What's on your mind?" he came straight to the point.

"What the hell are you doing to him in there?" Hutch demanded of the big man.

Moses just looked at him in wonder.  
"Excuse me?"

"You heard me! What the hell are you doing to him, to make him suffer to the point that he's close to tears?!" Hutch now practically hissed.

Moses made a face that said "You'd better change your tone, or else" but calmly responded,  
"It's called physical therapy, Hutch. He's been in the program for weeks now."

"It sounds more like a medieval torture-room when you guys are in there."

"He's still stiff, things don't work the way they're supposed to yet."

"Yeah well, I'm beginning to wonder if this -- **therapy** \-- is going the way it's supposed to," Hutch - keeping his voice low - spat at Moses, his eyes shining with a mixture of anger and concern.

Moses took a deep breath. He'd been in this situation many times before and knew Hutch's outburst was a natural expression for a person close to the patient.  
"Look, Hutch. Dave has been practically bed-ridden for five weeks. Then he slowly regained some mobility, although limited, and that was a very long and painful process. His setback right after he got home pretty much undid all that he had managed to achieve, so he had to start all the way back from square one again.   
Now we're working on getting him not only fully back on his feet again, but to give him more strength, more power and stability and that's even **more** painful. His muscles are all tight and cramped up. Stiffened by the long period of inactivity, shortened from him lying in bed all the time. Getting them to work again is a hard and painful process, but if we don't do it now, your partner may remain an invalid for the rest of his life. That's the sad and hard truth. No pain, no gain. Dave is in there fighting to become himself again, as much as possible. He knows what it takes. He knows it's gonna hurt and he accepts it. Why don't you?"

Moses' soothing tone had a calming effect on Hutch who wasn't seething anymore.   
Anger had now been completely replaced by anguish and concern.  
"I --- I just---" he started, then looked up at Moses with moist eyes before looking down again,  
"--- you know when he was shot --- when he was lying there on the concrete --- he was so quiet. Then when he lay in coma --- again, so quiet. You know he didn't even make a sound for close to a week after he woke up? All he'd do was just gaze around a bit---"

Hutch's mind drifted away to that horrendous first week after Starsky had woken up from his coma.  
"--- I'd --- I'd talk to him --- about anything really. Trying to get him to respond --- he'd just look at me with those vacant eyes and smile ---" Hutch inhaled deeply as the memories threatened to overtake him.  
"--- He'd smile and stare and stare and smile. And I'd talk and talk and talk to him. I'd tell everyone who could visit him to talk to him. Get him to respond. I don't even know if he was aware of who we were all the time. Sometimes he'd smile --- laugh even --- as if he understood what we were saying, but always without a sound. Then we'd think he was truly coming back to us. But then the next day he'd either be mostly asleep or he would look at us like we'd walked into the wrong room --- like it was the first time he'd ever laid eyes on us."

Hutch sighed and shook his head at the memories.  
"All I wanted was for him to say my name, to talk to us, to just make a sound --- anything, you know? And when he finally did make a sound --- and said something --- so soft, because of his lung, you know --- I mean --- we all realized he had a long way to go, right then and there. But still ---"

Hutch looked pleadingly at Moses,  
"--- I --- I can't --- I mean ---" another sigh,  
"--- I can't bear hearing him in so much pain, Mo! It cuts right through me and I don't care what you say about it being normal and being part of the healing process --- it fucks me up, to hear him suffer like that, no matter how much better it's going to make him!"

There.   
He'd said it and now Hutch was wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his hand.

Moses took a long, hard look at Hutch. Then he put his big, muscular arm around Hutch's shoulder.  
"You know, Hutch? You're about the best friend that man in there could wish for. You actually physically hurt for him. **With** him! It moves me, man, no fooling. I think it's terrific. But it also worries me for two reasons. One being that it isn't gonna do you any good, if you suffer with him. We don't need two injured people in here. We've got enough on our plate just with Dave's condition, him being the way he is. Two being that Dave's no fool either, at least not as far as this is concerned."

Moses squeezed Hutch's shoulder before letting him go but kept his eyes focused on Hutch's.  
"Now we both know that guy in there has got some --- let's call it --- **unique** ideas about things spinning around in that curly head of his. To tell ya the truth, at first I thought it was a result of his coma, until I found out he'd actually always been that way!"

Both Moses and Hutch chuckled.  
"But one thing he ain't and that's stupid. He's got a sixth sense as far as you're concerned and he notices the way his condition troubles you."

"But ---" Hutch tried to interrupt.

"Hold on, I'm not done yet!" Moses interrupted.

At the same time Starsky's voice sounded from the bedroom.  
"Hey Mo! Get back in here! The damn meter's still runnin'. I want compensation!"

"Hold your horses!" Mo yelled back then turned his attention back to Hutch.  
"What I'm trying to say is, why don't you do both yourself and Mr. Personality in there a favor, huh? Why don't you do what his mom does, huh? Why don't you concentrate on yourself while Dave and me work on his recovery?"

Hutch considered what Moses had said for a moment before asking,  
"Just what do you have in mind?"

"Take Mrs. Starsky's example. She's over at her sister's now, and the other day she visited with the Dobey's while we were doing PT. Why don't you also go out while we're in here exercising, huh? Go out, get some groceries, go jogging or something, anything. But spare yourself from hearing Dave's "agony" as you call it. He's going to be experiencing pain for quite some time to come. If you go out, you won't have to hear him and he won't have to worry about upsetting you, because he does, you know?"

"He does?" Hutch asked. Moses nodded.  
"He knows?"

"Yeah man! You two guys can read each other like a book. Now, what do you say? Huh?"

Hutch looked at the bedroom door and back at Moses. Then he nodded his head and softly said,  
"Okay, I will."

"Good for you, man!" Moses encouraged Hutch while patting him on the shoulder.

"MO! I'm growing leaves here!" Starsky yelled from the bedroom.

"Anything better than that wig you're wearin' now!" Mo yelled back, causing Hutch to chuckle.  
"I'm surprised you still look the way you do, dealing with Shirley Temple in there!" Moses said while he winked at Hutch.

"I wouldn't have him any other way!" Hutch replied, laughing as he watched Moses head for Starsky's bedroom again.

After the door closed Hutch took a look at the clock and decided to take a walk around the block to sit out the last half-hour of Starsky's therapy session.

Moses smiled when he noticed Hutch walking across the street from Starsky's bedroom window.

"Is she pretty?" Starsky asked, sounding like a pre-teen.

Moses shook his head and chuckled.  
"Don't try any diversions - three more times before you're done with this exercise. Get to it!"


	10. YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN

## YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN

"Here ya go," Rachel said, as she cut her son's bread into manageable pieces.

All of a sudden Starsky had enough of the situation; of being cared for and looked after as if he were a toddler. He loved his mother dearly. He understood his condition was still not up to par, but his undying optimism made him feel that all this pampering was standing in the way of his progress. So he stared at the pieces of bread on his plate and then shifted his eyes to look at his mother who was standing at the kitchen counter, clearing away the clutter she'd used to make him his lunch. Mother and son were alone together in Starsky's apartment, since Hutch had to meet with Captain Dobey and the DA at the station, regarding the Gunther trial.

"Ma, could ya come here a minute?" he called out to her.

"Just a second, sweetie, let me put this stuff away first," Rachel answered, not looking up from her chores.

"Leave that. I'll take care of that later. Will ya come on and sit with me?"

"It's almost done, just another sec. There!" Rachel had finished drying the countertop with a rag and washing and drying her hands after that before turning to face her son.

"Ma, could ya come sit with me, please?" Starsky asked again.

Rachel joined him at the dining table.  
Before Starsky could start his first sentence she noticed he hadn't touched his lunch yet.  
"Are those pieces too big? Ya want me to cut them a bit smaller?" She already reached for his knife, but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

"Ma! Would ya just ---- we gotta talk!" he exclaimed.

Rachel was taken aback by the tone of her son's voice.  
"What is it, sweetheart?"

Starsky sighed. He didn't want to hurt his mother's feelings, but inside him an increasing feeling of being suffocated had been developing for the past two days. He decided to just say it, straight out.  
"I, uh --- I think it's time for you to go home."

Silence.

Starsky looked at his mother from under his eyelashes, searching her still very attractive features for a reaction.

"Home." Rachel said it without any intonation.

Another silence. Starsky cringed inside, but mustered up enough courage to continue.  
"Yeah, home. Ya know, I really am doin' a lot better now and I think it's time I started doing things for myself. **By** myself, ya know? I think I'm ready. As a matter of fact, I can **feel **that I'm ready."

Rachel looked down at their hands that were now entwined.  
"Davey ----"

"Ma, please don't take this the wrong way but --- I got this feelin' that -- that if you 'n' Hutch would let me do more stuff by myself --- I'd make some real progress, ya know? I think I'm beginning to get too used to -- to being cared for and that's a feeling I can't afford ---"

Rachel's eyes filled up as she looked at her first born.  
She patted his hand. The hand that had already reclaimed some of what it once had been capable of since her son's return home but still was lacking so much as compared to how strong and able it used to be.  
After a few moments of emotion-packed silence, Rachel cleared her throat and said,  
"I know --- I know."

Starsky let out a sigh of relief.

Rachel continued,  
"I know that's the way you feel, sweetheart. But --- you still need so much help. You're still not up to your normal level. You still get so tired and you still lack strength. Why don't you let Hutch and me help you until you are a bit farther along in your healing?"

"Ma! That's what I'm tryin' to tell ya! I think I'd be able to do a lot more than I am able to now, if I were actually allowed to **do** stuff. But you 'n' Hutch --- I mean --- I know you mean well but you guys won't let me **do anything**. You're just waitin' on me. I have to **do** things myself --- I **have** ta!"

Rachel raised her voice,  
"Then ya **do** things yourself! I'll let ya! But don't send me away --- don't do it, Davey. You still need so much help. I'll let you do for yourself, but let me stay around to help you just in case you might need it, huh?"

"It's time I jumped, ma --- without a net. It's nothin' personal. It's just that --- I love you 'n' I love Hutch and I know you guys love me but --- sometimes love is suffocating -- stifling. I can't afford to feel that way now. I need to feel free again. I need to make my own decisions. I need to --- I need to **reclaim 'me'** \--- ya know?"

A long moment of stillness followed. A single tear slid down Rachel's face. Starsky noticed it finding its way down his mother's cheek and it made his own eyes mist up as well.  
Finally Rachel said,  
"Your declaration of independence, right?"

Starsky swallowed hard, then nodded his head.  
"That's the sayin', right? 'Ya can't go home again' ---"

Rachel reached out to touch her son's face.  
"Sometimes I forget you're a man, because when I look at you, there's still my little Bubeleh in your eyes, in your face. The little boy I 'waited' on when he was home with the flu or the chicken pox ----"  
Her hand rested on his cheek as a single tear now fell from his eye, only to be stopped when it encountered the surface of Rachel's hand.  
"My brave little soldier --- I know you're right, sweetheart. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable these past few days ---"

Starsky wanted to interrupt, but his mother placed her hand on his mouth, hushing him.  
"--- I could feel it inside me, that maybe I was making you feel uncomfortable, but I chose to ignore that feeling. Ya know, sweetheart? Maybe deep inside, I don't want ya to get well enough to be able to pick up your job again, where you left off. I want you to be healthy and strong, but I don't want to run the risk again of losing you. I don't think I'd be able to bear it.  
You made it this time, but ya came too close to --- to being with your father --- I don't think I could go through all this again. So maybe I was trying, subconsciously, to prevent you from getting well enough -- too soon. I'm sorry. I shouldn't make those choices for you."

Starsky sniffled loudly as the emotions were washing over him. Of course he, too, had thought a lot about his latest injury. He had never been this close to death's door and it had forced him to contemplate life in all its facets. But he had come to the conclusion that for the benefit of his healing process he should approach life as if he really were going to return to his job. To become "fighting fit" would be his goal. Taking away his job would leave very little incentive to give his recuperation the full one hundred percent needed to get back on his feet again.

When he was able to speak again, he told his mother in a soft but determined tone.  
"Mom --- it's time. I love ya, and I can never repay ya for what you have done all this time. Hell, I can never repay ya for being the mother to me that you are. But as you said I'm a grown man and I need to make my own decisions. I know this last incident was way too close a call to not make me think about the future. But before I got a shot at **any** kind of a future, I gotta get myself back on my feet and go from there."

Rachel nodded while patting her son's hand.

"I have set myself a goal, mom. I've set myself a goal to become the man I was before, physically. But you know as well as I do that inside I will never be the same man again as I was before this happened. This was too close. I realize that. And ya know me well enough to know no cop's goal is to get killed, just as much as you know that there are scores of cops who make it to their retirement without one single injury. It's fate and it can't be predicted who gets what."

Starsky sighed and paused for a moment. Then while looking at the table he concluded,  
"I never went looking for any injury, but I got my share in these past years. I've had some close calls, but I always made it back and I will again, this time. You go when your number is up. So far, it hasn't been my turn yet."  
He looked at his mother.  
"But mom, ya don't have ta worry about me pushing the envelope. I don't have a death wish and the chance of getting injured is not what attracted me to becoming a cop. This last incident though, it made me realize a few things that I can't get into right now. But one thing is clear and that is that I have to be able to get back in fightin' form, ya know? I can't do that from where I am now. Being in the condition I am in now colors my judgement. So I gotta do for myself, get better, improve and get my body and head level again.  
You do understand, don'tcha?" he looked pleadingly at his mother.  
"Besides, your other son needs ya, too ----" he added.

Rachel returned her son's look and read his mind perfectly. He was right. It was time. So she patted his hand, nodded her head and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.  
Then, in a soft voice, she told him.  
"You're right, Bubeleh. It's time."

She stood up, caressed his curls as she held him close to her, kissed him on his hair and added,  
"I'm going to book a flight home this afternoon and pack my stuff tonight." She sighed then turned Starsky's face up to her own.  
"But you have to promise me something, too. You promise that you will not keep me in the dark. You promise me you will call me and inform me about everything. Everything that goes well and everything that doesn't, ya got that? Because if you don't I will be back here before ya can blink an eye, understood?"

He nodded his head.

"We're proud of ya," Rachel concluded and kissed him again before walking back to the kitchen.

Starsky's moist eyes followed her. "We're proud of you" is what she said when she was certain his father would have felt the same way about something.   
He sighed deeply and began eating his lunch.


	11. A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE

## A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE

The second half of August began with Rachel Starsky's return to the East Coast and indeed her son's condition improved, slowly but surely. With Hutch's birthday less than two weeks away, Starsky was working extra hard to regain his former fitness. However, his undying optimism was coloring his outlook on the true status of his physical well-being.

Hutch had not been too pleased with Rachel's sudden departure, because with the preparations for the Gunther trial underway, he was forced to leave Starsky home alone for several hours a week. From Hutch's point of view, however, leaving Starsky by himself was still not an option. So he would recruit either Edith Dobey or, if his schedule allowed it, Huggy to keep Starsky company.

Today was another day that Hutch's presence was required at the DA's office, so Hutch had called Huggy to stay with Starsky. What he didn't know, however, was that Starsky had also called Huggy to discuss Hutch's upcoming birthday.

Hutch came pacing out of kitchen again and took another look at the clock.  
_Huggy's late, dammit._

He heard a thump coming out of the bathroom and walked over to check on Starsky.  
"Starsk, you all right?"

"Yeah," came Starsky's somewhat muffled voice.

Hutch had forbidden Starsky to lock any doors inside the apartment in case of an emergency, but still he first asked before entering,  
"Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

When Hutch entered he found Starsky on the bathroom floor, rubbing a considerable red spot on his forehead that, without a doubt, would develop into an impressive bump.

"What happened?"

"Dropped my razor, bumped my head against the sink when I wanted to pick it up," Starsky answered in a pained voice.

"Dizzy?"

"Well, I am now!"

Hutch knew all too well, that Starsky was trying to steer away from the fact that his sense of balance was still off, causing him to lose his footing from time to time, resulting in frequent falls. He helped his partner up and checked his forehead.  
"You're going to get one nasty bump there, Starsk."

"Yeah, whatever," Starsky answered, unconcerned.  
"Hey, aren't ya gonna be late for the DA's office?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I'm not leaving until Huggy gets here," Hutch snapped back.

"But Hutch ---"

"It's not open for discussion, Starsk. You take a fall and you want me to just leave you alone? It's not gonna happen."

"But Huggy's gonna be ---"

"I'm not going until he's in the building, and that's that," Hutch said, steering Starsky into the bedroom and giving him a stern look.

"What? Are ya just gonna stand there while I put my clothes on?" Starsky asked with indignation.

"No, I'm going to the living room and wait for another thump. Hurry up, will you?"

"Ya know, you're really getting cranky in your old age. You'd think you'd be turning ---"

"And I'm not going to celebrate my birthday, so just give up, will you!" Hutch's mood was not improving as his concern about Starsky was working overtime.

The doorbell rang.

"Not a moment too soon," Starsky mumbled, relieved that Huggy had finally arrived and Hutch would be able to occupy himself with something more useful than just hovering around him.

"Don't you fear, Huggy Bear is here!" Huggy meanwhile exclaimed good-naturedly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're late!" Hutch grumbled as he let Huggy in the apartment.

"Shoot, who rained on your parade, dude?" Huggy whined, frowning at Hutch's bad mood.  
"What's happenin', Amigo?"

"Look, I should have been there by now!" an exasperated Hutch replied.  
"Just keep an eye on him, okay?"

"That's why I'm here, remember? You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, look, I'm sorry, Hug. He took another fall, so just really keep an eye on him, okay?"

"Oh man, sure, of course I will," Huggy answered, while looking in the direction of Starsky's bedroom with concern.

Hutch quickly paced over to Starsky's bedroom and watched as Starsky was zipping up his pants.  
"Starsk, Hug's here. I, I gotta go now, okay? I'll try to get back here as soon as I can."

"Hey! Hug's here, relax, will ya? Get goin'!" Starsky replied jovially.  
"And Hutch? No speeding!" he added, as he winked at his friend, reassuring him that Hutch's bad mood was forgiven.

Hutch smiled apologetically, gave Huggy a pat on the shoulder, and left the apartment.

"What's up with him?" Huggy asked Starsky, while entering the latter's bedroom.

"Aaawww, nothin'. He was just running late."

"Man! You got one nasty bump on your head!" Huggy exclaimed, while taking in the goose egg that was developing on Starsky's forehead.

"Yeah, just forgeddaboudit, will ya? Let's get goin'."

"Starsky, I'm not so sure we should do this," Huggy said hesitantly.

"What are ya talkin' about, come on, let's move," Starsky replied energetically.

"Look, maybe we should go some other day, huh, when you're feeling better," Huggy tried again, not sure whether it was such a good idea to take Starsky for a tour of the mall.

"Hey, I'm doin' fine! Let's go, will ya?" Starsky exclaimed. Then he noticed the reluctance in Huggy's eyes.  
"Oh, come on, Hug! Hey, if you won't take me I'm just gonna damn well call me a cab, so what's it gonna be?"

Huggy sighed and shook his head. He was a nervous wreck, already anticipating Hutch's wrath, should the blond detective ever find out he'd taken Starsky out of the apartment. Still, like the good friend he was, he indulged Starsky and accompanied him down the stairs of the apartment. His heart skipped a few beats, when Starsky's descent included some hiccups, so Huggy sighed audibly with relief when he escorted Starsky to the passenger seat of his car without further incident.

Once they'd arrived at the mall, he parked in a handicapped zone, nearest to the store that Starsky wanted to visit.

"You're gonna get a ticket!" Starsky warned Huggy.

"No way, Jose. I borrowed your special needs card," Huggy replied.

"You **asked** him for the card?! Hug, he's not supposed to find out about me leavin' the apartment!" Starsky exclaimed.

"Calm down, Starsky! Hutch doesn't know I borrowed it. But I figured we'd be needing it  
so ---" Huggy could already see a tantrum developing so, while ducking Starsky's glare, he got out of the car. The dark haired detective was not at all pleased that during his convalescence he was granted a permit to park in the handicapped parking zones. Anything that marked him down as 'different' or 'in need' irked him terribly.

Huggy rounded his car in a hurry, as Starsky was already in the process of getting out. He still needed a pull from his funky friend to make it to a standing position, though, and swayed slightly once he was upright.

"Whoa there, bro. Starsky, I still don't think ---" Huggy said, still jittery.

"Shut up, Hug. Here it is," Starsky said, while pointing at the store of his choice, his anger forgotten.  
"C'mon, let's go in," he continued enthusiastically, but already stumbling with his first step.

Huggy's heart skipped another beat.  
"Sheesh, Starsk ----"

"Come on!" Starsky barked, as he took hold of his friend's arm.

They entered the Sporting Goods store and went to the fishing department. They checked out the different rods and reels, hooks, lines and sinkers to find the perfect gift for Hutch.  
Starsky had decided Hutch needed a new rod, not only because he once caused Hutch's high tech, very expensive new rod, to disappear in the ocean, but also because the rod would be the perfect tool and excuse for Hutch to get out of the apartment and have some time for himself, by himself, to let go of all the worries about Starsky.

A sales clerk approached them and began answering all of Starsky's questions, taking Huggy and Starsky along all the cases and racks where the huge variety of fishing gear were displayed. Though Starsky was very enthusiastic and interested, his energy level was steadily depleting. That was no surprise to Huggy, who continuously checked his watch the longer they stayed at the store.

After a full hour of explanations and advice Starsky and the sales clerk had assembled a wonderful fishing gear combo at a reasonable price. When the clerk was making up the invoice, Starsky needed to sit down. He had used up most of his energy for the day and  
Huggy was already worrying about how he was going to get Starsky back up the stairs to his apartment again.

Starsky paid the clerk and a date was set on when the package would be delivered and then he and Huggy slowly made their way back to the car.  
"That was pretty terrific, wasn't it?" Starsky sighed, while leaning his head back on the headrest.

Huggy looked over at his friend who looked worn, but definitely satisfied.  
"Yeah, Blondie's gonna be tickled pink. You did good, my man!"

"Yeah ----" Starsky continued,   
"that's gonna give him an excuse to go out some more, take some time for himself, outta the house, rest up a bit. And ----it's gonna give me a chance to do more around the house --- prove to 'em he can leave things to me again ---- yeah, it's the perfect gift ----" Starsky mumbled, before slipping away in a nap.

"Oh, shit!" Huggy whispered to himself. Starsky was pretty much back to his original weight from before the shooting, which was a good 20 pounds heavier than Huggy's lean physique.  
"You'd better be awake by the time we get to the apartment, cos I'm way too dainty to haul around that bulk of yours!"

Starsky woke up minutes before they were back at his apartment and indeed it took some considerable effort for the two friends to safely make it up the stairs to the front door. Once inside, Starsky immediately plopped down on the couch. The trip to the mall had drained him but despite his soreness and fatigue, a big smile covered his features. As far as he was concerned, he had done pretty good, and he was already planning his next trip to the mall as a solo effort.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Huggy was shaking his head and sipping from a glass of water. Then, while wiping the beads of perspiration from his brow, he peeked into the living room. _You still have a long, long way ahead of you, my friend. I'm just hoping the Big Guy upstairs gives back to you all that you have lost. You deserve it, bro._

\------------------------------------------

The trip with Huggy to the mall remained a perfect secret between him and Starsky. Hutch had been slightly concerned when Starsky had been rather listless when he returned from the DA's office, but Hutch blamed that on the fall Starsky had taken earlier that morning.

Still, as the days slowly moved on, Hutch's gnawing feelings regarding the slow pace of Starsky's recovery were becoming more and more persistent.

How could Starsky not see it?   
It never ceased to amaze Hutch how his partner only seemed to suffer from extremely short-lived moments of despair, glimpses of hopelessness that never seemed to last longer than half a minute at most.   
Then, within the blink of an eye, Starsky's undying and unfaltering optimism, trust and belief in his total recovery would return and he would push himself just a tiny bit harder to achieve that goal. Often it would be Starsky, not Hutch, who was giving the pep talks.   
And right at this moment Hutch, again, felt that the scene he was watching begged him to give his long-suffering partner an inspiring speech. But all Hutch could do was stand and stare at his partner who was taking a painfully long time to awkwardly change the bed sheets.

Anxiety had begun to overtake Hutch when Starsky took such a long time in his bedroom after his shower. So, he'd walked up to the door that was slightly ajar unprepared for the scene he found.   
There was Starsky, about six weeks out of the hospital, struggling to get a pillow into a pillowcase. Now that his mother had returned to New York, he had urged Hutch to give him some leeway - let him try to do more for himself - within reason, of course.   
Reluctantly Hutch had agreed. He could not, however, turn off his "mother-hen" mode that was second nature to him. So, whenever Starsky took on something he had not done since the shooting Hutch's radar immediately switched on. He wouldn't be able to keep his mind and eyes off his friend until either the task was fulfilled or Starsky had come to the realization that perhaps his attempt had been a bit too optimistic. And such seemed to be nearly the case again now.

Starsky's unwilling hands had much trouble trying to fit the pillow into the - too snug - pillowcase, turning this simple task into a one-man pillow fight. Exhausted, Starsky sat down on the bed and massaged his hands, rolled his neck and flexed his fingers. After a minute or two he reached for the pillow and pillowcase and started all over again.  
Hutch still couldn't move and continued studying his stubborn and brave partner. It took Starsky another five minutes, but finally he'd completed his task and triumphantly placed the pillow in its place by the headboard. As Starsky pushed himself off the bed to repeat his actions with the second pillow, Hutch made his way back to the living room.  
He knew how important it would be for Starsky to show off his accomplishments, once he was done.

Fifteen minutes later Starsky walked up to Hutch, who had started preparations for lunch in the kitchen. His cheeks flushed, his gait a bit stiff, which was to be expected after all his hard work, Starsky inspected what Hutch was setting up.  
"What are we havin'?" he asked.

Hutch glanced sideways at his partner and a warm and amused feeling washed over him as he could see the excitement over his achievements bubble under the surface of Starsky's features.  
"Surprise, I'm making you a hamburger de-luxe," he revealed.

Starsky looked at him disbelieving.  
"Really? How come?"

"Don't question it --- take advantage of it, or else I'll change that to a soy burger," Hutch mockingly threatened. When Starsky still didn't volunteer any news on what he'd been doing in the bedroom, Hutch decided to pry a little.  
"What took you so long? For a minute I feared you might have drowned!"

"Yeah, right. In the shower!" Starsky replied, cocky as in the pre-shooting days.

"Or mutilated yourself with your razor," Hutch continued, then took a close look at Starsky's face.  
"But I see you haven't shaved yet. So spill: what took you so long? Take a nap?" he teased, as he of course already knew the reason why.

"Nothin'," Starsky answered, semi-casually.

"Lousy liar," Hutch replied while he turned off the gas and finished preparing Starsky's hamburger.

"I cleaned up my room, ma," Starsky said, making a face at Hutch.  
"If ya don't believe I can do it, have a look for yourself," he added confidently.

"All right, I will," Hutch said while rinsing off his hands. He wiped them dry on the apron he was wearing and headed for Starsky's bedroom, Starsky following him at a slower pace.  
Once inside the room, he could see Starsky had done a very decent job in changing and making the bed, and clearing the room of some rubbish as well. He looked at Starsky, who was standing in the doorway looking tired but fulfilled.  
Just to rub it in a bit, Hutch put his hands on his hips, looked around the room in exaggerated nonchalance and asked,  
"Okay, so what am I supposed to see here?"  
Hutch could barely contain his laugh as he witnessed Starsky's features change into an expression of total indignation.

But Starsky caught on within half a second, picked up a box of tissues from his nightstand and threw it at Hutch.  
His pitch fell a bit short, but Hutch ducked anyway and let out a hearty laugh.  
"It looks good, Starsk. I'm proud of you. --- How do you feel?"

"For real?" Starsky asked with a half smile.  
"Terrible, but better than ever before in my life!"

"You think you can still handle that burger?" Hutch teased.

"What do **you** think?" Starsky retorted.

Smiling, Hutch walked over to his partner and put his arm around his shoulder. On their way to the kitchen Starsky said  
"Ya know somethin'? This kinda calls for a celebration, don'tcha think?"

Hutch already anticipated where this might be going, but still played along.  
"Oh, yeah? What d'you have in mind?"

"How 'bout a nice cold brewsky, to keep the beef company, huh?" Starsky asked hopefully.

"No way, Gordo. The burger is your reward. No alcohol as long as you're on drugs -- and no arguments there. Discussion closed."

"Spoilsport," Starsky muttered good-naturedly and let Hutch lead him to his seat at the dinner table.


	12. ANOTHER BRIDGE CROSSED

## ANOTHER BRIDGE CROSSED

"Goodnight, buddy. Sleep tight." Hutch whispered softly. He looked at his sleeping partner one last time before quietly closing the bedroom door.

Starsky had a good day today. No, it had been a great day in fact. It had been a day of triumph, and of another first.

There had been a lot of firsts since the shooting, though lately the time between new victories was longer than it had been earlier.   
Hutch remembered those glorious moments since the beginning of Starsky's recuperation. When Starsky first woke up, his first word, his first solid meal, his first steps and now this, his first run. It hadn’t been outside, it had been inside the hospital gymnasium and although it hadn’t been a fast run, it was still a cause for celebration.

One full lap he had managed to jog at a mild pace. Immediately afterwards, Moses had accompanied Starsky to the lab where his heart rate, lung capacity and the various levels in his blood were tested as well as just the general response of his battered body to the strenuous exercise. Everyone had been very pleased with the results. Everything indicated Starsky's body was definitely beginning to bounce back.

Starsky was ecstatic, despite Moses' warning that his entire body would probably "hurt like a bear" later and the next day, but Starsky didn't care. As far as he was concerned, he had passed another test and was one step closer to being his old self again. If walking through a raging fire would give him back his old abilities, he'd probably do that too, without batting an eye.

But, as predicted, his muscles became sore and fatigue hit him with a vengeance in the early evening, so he decided to go to bed by 9 p.m., with very little urging from Hutch.

Hutch shook his head, smiling at the memory of Starsky's boundless happiness when he had picked him up from his physical therapy session. Just like a little kid, he had to tell Hutch all about his day, and his personal victory.

_One lap ---- who would ever have thought running one lap, could give someone such a wonderful sense of accomplishment? _Hutch asked himself as he put the dinner dishes back in the cupboard.

He turned off the light in the kitchen and sat down on the couch after turning on the TV. He was too wound up to sleep now, but he could relax knowing Starsky was getting the rest he needed. He searched up and down the dial, not liking any of the selections being offered so he just picked a channel at random, which showed an old medical drama. He lost interest pretty quickly. Then his eyes came to rest on the photo album Starsky’s mother had started during her very first visit with Starsky, while he was still in the hospital, to keep track of his recuperation.

Hutch walked over to the dining table, switched on the light and began going through the album. It was literally a photo documentary of Starsky’s recovery, the highs and lows, of all his major accomplishments.   
There they were. The photos that were a testament to all that Starsky had been through over the past months.   
_No, not of all he's been through_ the little voice inside reminded him.  
The photos taken during that first week, that first day, that first moment after Starsky was critically injured by the machine guns would have been too horrid, too graphic and too painful to view.

The photo album started somewhere around the second week after the shooting. It had been Rachel's first visit to the son she almost lost. Starsky had woken up from his coma a little over two days after the shooting and still looked white as a sheet, with an eerie blue tint to his complexion.

_God, how obvious that you weren't quite 'there' yet, Starsk! _Hutch thought, as he looked at the vacant expression Starsky's eyes still had in some of those first pictures.

Hutch turned another page and another. He had made photographs, and so had Moses, at the request of Rachel Starsky. He remembered Rachel saying,   
"Hutch, he **needs** this, believe me. I know my son. He won’t remain as optimistic as he is now. He needs to be able to look back and see where he has come from. How far he’s come already, and how much further he still has to go ----"

Hutch remembered looking into Rachel's eyes when she'd said those words to him. Of course she knew best what her son needed. This was the woman who had sacrificed her own motherhood for her son's sake, by sending him away at the age of twelve -- because he needed it. And so, he had faithfully continued to make snap shots of every achievement of Starsky and even of some of the bad days.

Yes, there had been bad days. Even though they were far outnumbered by the good days, if only because of Starsky's unfailing optimism and indomitable spirit.  
There had been days when Starsky couldn't stand the sight of anyone around him, including him. Days when he had been trying to perform the simplest tasks.

There had been times when Starsky had lashed out at him  
"Hey! If you'd been here ten minutes ago, ya could've taken a pic of them wiping my butt!"

It had been the frustration talking but it still hurt, just like when he'd said  
"I'm missing a pic here. Ya know the one when I puked my guts out? Why didn't you get a shot of that for posterity, huh? Buddy boy!"  
His partner had been in rare form that day. Thankfully that attitude hadn’t lasted long.

Such remarks cut through Hutch's soul, but he'd remained stoic, knowing his partner had been through much more than he could ever imagine.

Then a period followed when less pictures were taken, because Starsky's progress was very gradual, without any great peaks. His strength was built up and this didn't produce much visual difference.

As Hutch continued flipping through the pages, he stopped when he found another milestone. Starsky's first wobbly steps with the aid of a walker.

Hutch remembered that day vividly. Starsky was enthusiastic about finally being able to walk, yet embarrassed at the same time, about having to use the clumsy walker. The whole situation just struck him as funny, and he came down with a fit of the giggles, which seriously hindered his ability to stand upright, let alone walk properly. So the picture that was finally shot showed Starsky hanging way too far over the front of the walker, his face red and wet with tears from laughter. The photo was a bit out of focus, as Hutch had to throw the camera down on Starsky's hospital bed, because Starsky's laughing fit caused his legs to give way and Hutch caught him just before he fell.

Hutch snickered at the memory of the nurses who came running up to Starsky's room, wondering what all the commotion was about, only to find the two policemen reduced to helpless heaps of laughter. One man on the bed, and one hanging over the foot of the bed.

More pages and more memories followed until Hutch reached the last page. Hutch sighed and put the photo album down, glanced at yet another show on the television set and noticed Starsky's jacket had fallen down from the coat rack. He got up and hung the jacket back in its place, then noticed a photo on the floor. He bent down to pick it up and smiled to himself as he realized it was the latest addition to the album.  
It was a photo of Starsky in action, running in the gym, probably taken by Moses. Starsky's face was beaded with sweat, his lips parted, as he sucked in air. His facial features contorted in pain, yet a look of fierce determination in his eyes. Triumph through the pain.

It didn’t matter that Starsky had run at a snail’s pace compared to how he used to run. He was well on his way to winning the race of his life.

Hutch smiled and nodded his approval at the sight of his best friend's achievement.  
"Here you go, champ!" he whispered, as he tucked the photo into the album, with all the others.

Then, he turned off the TV set, checked the lock on the door and got ready to turn in for the night himself.


	13. ONE OF THOSE DAYS

## ONE OF THOSE DAYS

#### The Prologue

The pain was close to unbearable.   
Starsky didn't understand how all of a sudden, close to his seventh week at home, the pain was back with a vengeance.

He got up slowly and went to the bathroom.  
_Shit, it even hurts to pee!_ he thought as he relieved himself.   
He could hear Hutch getting breakfast together in the kitchen and he braced himself for the walk over. No way was he going to let Hutch see the pain was back full force, not on a working day, and certainly not with Hutch's birthday just a few days away!

A few days earlier, Hutch had started going back to work, at first for a couple of hours.   
Yesterday he had been penciled in for five hours, but because he got called on a case, it turned into eight hours.   
For the first time since the shooting, about three and a half months ago, Starsky had been alone for such a long amount of time.

A little more than one week ago, his pleas to his mother to go home, insisting he was well enough to do things by himself, had been answered and Rachel had - reluctantly - taken a flight back to New York. Then a few days later, he'd managed to convince Hutch he was well enough to be alone for a few hours at a time. After Starsky's constant nagging, Hutch, too, had reluctantly given in to his highly optimistic partner's request, not calling in favors from the Dobey's or Huggy anymore, to keep an eye on Starsky while he was out.  
Since Moses was away on vacation, and his replacement therapist could only pencil him in twice a week, Starsky had to do exercises at home. Hutch helped him and, as far as Starsky was concerned, that worked out just fine.  
Now, however, as he shuffled towards the breakfast table he wondered if he'd perhaps exercised a bit too enthusiastically.

"Morning! Did you sleep well?" Hutch asked cheerfully. 

"Like a babe," Starsky answered truthfully. The pain hadn't started until he'd gotten up.

"I've got a surprise for you!" Hutch announced and put a plate filled with small pancakes on the table.

Starsky's face lit up like a little boy's.  
"All right!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Just don't overdo it, Gordo. Be modest for a change," Hutch cautioned.

Starsky started picking at the stack of pancakes with his fork to move one to his own plate, while Hutch returned to the kitchen and cleared some of the mess. When he returned with his own vitamin drink, Starsky was still fumbling to get a pancake on his plate in one piece, clearly getting frustrated in the process.

"Want a hand with that, buddy? They might stick together a bit," Hutch offered.

"Nah, I should be able to move the stupid thing over in one piece!" Starsky said, but instead of being successful, his attempt ended with his fork dropping to the floor.  
"Shit!" he exclaimed and bent over to pick up his fork, which resulted in a sharp jab of pain that worked its way up and down the length of his spine, making him gasp.

Hutch was immediately alarmed.  
"Hey, buddy. Let me get that for you." He picked up the fork and wiped it clean, concern for his partner all over his face.  
"What's the matter? Where does it hurt?"

It's nothing," Starsky lied through gritted teeth while taking the fork from Hutch to attempt to move at least one pancake over onto his plate.

Hutch stole the fork back from him and in one smooth move stabbed into the stack of pancakes and placed one on Starsky's plate.  
"You're a lousy liar, you know? Where does it hurt, and when did it start? Give it to me straight now."

Starsky clenched his jaw, then sighed in submission and admitted,  
"My back hurts. Just a bit. It'll pass as soon as I finish breakfast and have my pill. Don't worry 'bout it," he said, assuming as light a tone as he could muster.

Hutch wasn't convinced at all.  
"Maybe I should call in to the station, let them know I won't be in today."

"Hutch, will you calm down! It's just a twitch, really! Just let me have breakfast, you go have your jog, go to the station and stop worryin'! I'll be fine!"

Hutch just looked at him and tried to figure out how truthful Starsky's claims were.

"Hutch, will you go on?! I'm fine!" Starsky insisted, while putting maple syrup on his pancake.

Reluctantly, Hutch left the apartment for his 5-mile run.

It took Starsky almost one full minute of fumbling before he managed to drag a second pancake onto his plate. He massaged his hands but wasn't really concerned.  
After he had his fill, he walked over to the kitchen to get a painkiller. He dropped the bottle and all his pills spilled on the kitchen floor.  
"Oh, that's just terrific!!!!!"

On hands and knees he crawled and managed to retrieve every single spilled pill, but the exercise left him exhausted.  
He looked at the kitchen clock.  
_Only 7:45? Man, is it gonna be one of those days?_ he wondered before hoisting himself up. He managed to swallow his pain medication and look reasonably relaxed again by the time Hutch returned.

Flustered from running in the late August heat, Hutch hurried into the apartment.  
"The paper is late!" he complained, too pre-occupied to notice anything about his partner. It wasn't until he left the bathroom, after showering, that he took a closer look at Starsky.  
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, concern once again evident in his features.

"Yeah! Whassamatter with you? I'm fine!" Starsky bit back.

Hutch made a face, thinking Starsky's reaction was a bit too defensive.

"Honest, Hutch. I'm fine. Ya better hurry, or you'll be late," Starsky added in a softer tone.

"Not until you've had your shower!" Hutch insisted.

"Oh, come on, Hutch. I can do it by myself already!" Starsky whined.

"Doesn't smell that way," Hutch retorted dryly and steered Starsky into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later the partners emerged and Hutch helped Starsky get dry and dressed.

As Starsky was putting on his shoes Hutch asked,  
"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, **of course** I am, don't worry 'bout it!" Starsky said, not looking up.

"Okay," Hutch softly replied, then left the bedroom.

Starsky remained, concentrating so hard on trying to tie his shoelaces, that he didn't hear the door to the apartment open and close twice.  
Not two minutes after leaving his partner in the bedroom, Hutch returned, got down on his knees and tied Starsky's Adidas for him.  
"**Now** I can leave with a clear conscience," he said softly, as he smiled at Starsky. He patted Starsky on his thigh and left, for real this time.

Starsky remained seated on the bed, swallowing away his frustrations. He knew Hutch meant well, but today was not the day to be reminded of his limitations. So, obstinate as he was, he untied his shoes - a difficult task since Hutch had double tied them - and tied them again by himself. It took him a good ten minutes, but it also left him thoroughly satisfied once he'd finished the job.

He raised his arms as far as he could and turned his upper body to the left and right as far as he could, to check if the pain was still there. Apparently the painkillers had taken effect and were doing their job.

He slowly got up from the bed and cleared away his own breakfast mess. That was something he'd made Hutch promise also. As a way of regaining his independence Starsky would, as much as his condition allowed, take care of his own stuff. That meant bathing and dressing himself, if Hutch didn't try to do it for him, doing his own breakfast dishes and changing his own bed. On days that he wasn't up to that, he would take the sheets and blankets off, and Hutch would finish changing the bed, either when he came home for lunch or else before dinner.

Starsky covered the remaining pancakes and placed them in the fridge. Then he proceeded to wash his own breakfast things. He dropped the plate, but luckily it didn't break.

Now it was close to 9 a.m. He stood out on the landing and checked to see if the newspaper was there yet. _Still no paper? Hmmm, better call them._ He got out yesterday's newspaper and called the delivery service.

"Yeah, Deliveries please. Hiya, I'm David M. Starsky. It's 9 a.m. and my newspaper hasn't arrived yet ---- Starsky --- S - T - A - R - S - K - Y ----- D.M. ---- DAVID M. No **M** for Michael. Yeah ---- okay I'll hold. Yeah, that's right. Yeah, that's the address. Yeah? It was? I didn't see it. Hmm mmm, you sure? Okay. Okay, then I'll have another look. Okay, right. Thanks."   
He put down the receiver.   
"For nothin'" he muttered to himself.

He looked around the apartment, then got up and decided to change his bed. Thanks to the painkillers he felt quite good so he was able to change his bed without any problems. He actually felt well enough to get out the vacuum cleaner and give it a whirl around the apartment.  
_Hutch is gonna be surprised!_ He smiled contentedly to himself, then thought _Surprised and mad as hell ---- Oh well._ He managed to vacuum the living room, but then had to take a break for fifteen minutes to get his wind back.   
Once he felt better again he tackled the kitchen and his bedroom before putting the vacuum cleaner back in its place.

Feeling thoroughly satisfied he sat back down on the couch to recover his energy. The August humidity was a killer this year. Yet, he couldn't stop grinning, proud as he was of his own achievement. This had been a very productive morning so far.

He looked at the clock. 11:20 a.m. The phone rang. It was Hutch.  
"Hey, buddy. How are you doing?"

"Terrific!" he exclaimed happily.

"I'll try to be there for lunch, but I don't think I can make it until around 1:00. You have your lunch on time, though, for your medication."

"Yes, Mom, I will," he answered.

"Very funny. So what did you do? How many pancakes did you have?"

"Just two, they're real fillers. Changed the bed, did the breakfast dishes, little stuff," he answered vaguely.

"Yeah? Well, I've got to go now. I'll try to make it over before one."

"Don't rush --- take it easy, I'm fine," he replied and hung up.


	14. ONE OF THOSE DAYS

## ONE OF THOSE DAYS

#### The Tale

_11:30. Damned newspaper oughtta be here by now! _  
He got up and made it to the door. Once again he stood on the landing and soon spotted the newspaper lying in the bushes.  
_Hmmm, Joey's throwin' arm must be off. I'll ask Hank to get it for me, when he gets here_ he thought to himself. Hank was their regular mailman.

As he turned he noticed it had begun to rain. Within seconds the rain changed from a modest patter into a true, hard shower.  
_Shit, the damned paper is gonna be soaked before Hank gets here!_   
Starsky contemplated his dilemma for a moment and then decided to get the paper himself. He slowly made it down the stairs, holding on to the banister. He managed to get the newspaper out of the bushes and got back to the stairs. Just a few steps shy of the stairs, he tripped over one of his shoelaces and fell. Trying to catch himself, he twisted first against the banister, then fell forward onto the lower steps.

He moaned out loud and then cursed himself under his breath. The pain cut him like a knife.   
He'd slammed into the end of the banister with his right side before dropping forward onto the steps. He sat there for a moment in the pouring rain, panting, trying to will the pain away and regain his strength. Finally he managed to pull himself up and, with the soaking newspaper in his right hand, clutching it to his chest, he slowly made it back up the stairs.

Once inside he collapsed on the couch, totally worn out. His eyes found the clock. 11:45.  
He sat up and winced, took a few deep breaths and stood up. He wobbled over to the bathroom and looked at his soaking image in the mirror.  
_Oh, terrific! If Hutch sees me like this, he's not gonna go back to work again._   
He grabbed a towel and dried himself as best he could. His clothes were stained with mud and so were his shoes.  
"Goddammit!"   
He stumbled back to the living room to check if he'd left a muddy trail. Luckily there weren't any mud traces on the floor. He counted his blessings and braced himself as he began changing his clothes.  
By 12:30 he was finally done, but exhausted from the process. He'd put on another jogging suit and a fresh pair of Adidas. Tying the laces had almost killed him from frustration as his uncooperative fingers kept losing their grip.

He stood up and immediately dropped back on to the bed again. The pain in his side was terrible. He instantly knew he must have bruised something. Yet, the clock was ticking and if he wanted to appear as normal as possible he had to get something into his stomach so he could take his painkiller. He stood up and, with clenched jaw, slowly made his way to the kitchen. He got out a cold pancake and stuffed it into his mouth, filled a glass with water and took the much-needed painkiller. Then he leaned against the refrigerator, waiting for it to kick in.

After five minutes a relaxed feeling washed over him like a warm, welcome blanket. 12:45. He noticed he was still hungry and decided to make his fruit drink, a concoction of blended fruits.  
He got out the blender as well as the fruits he wanted to use and started washing and cutting them.

Around 1 p.m. Hutch entered the apartment and heard Starsky puttering around in the kitchen. He softly made it over to have a sneak peek at his partner. Ever since the shooting, he would often watch Starsky when he wasn't aware of it, just to see if and how much his condition had improved. But now as he watched he noticed a stiffness in Starsky much like in the beginning of his recuperation.

He studied Starsky a while longer until the latter noticed him and stopped what he was doing.  
"Hey, when did **you** get in?"

"Just now. How are you doing?"

"Fine, just fixin' my drink."

Hutch studied Starsky closer. The limp was back --- ever so subtle, but it was back. Starsky hadn't had this much trouble walking for close to two weeks now, so Hutch was immediately alarmed.  
Quasi nonchalant he walked over to the kitchen counter where his friend was cutting a banana to add to his concoction in the blender. Starsky's technique was awkward, as he still needed to concentrate on getting his hands to produce the movements he had in mind.

"So, how was your day?" Hutch asked in a studied, light tone.

"Was fine -- like any other day," Starsky answered, never interrupting his actions.

Hutch was determined to find out what caused the deterioration in Starsky's condition, however slight.  
"Yeah? You sure of that? --- No big adventures? No one stopped by? No one called?"

Starsky briefly glanced in Hutch's direction but seemed startled when their eyes met, so he quickly diverted his eyes back to the blender.

Hutch tried another avenue.  
"What all are you going to blend in there?"

"The usual, "Starsky tried to sound casual.  
"Apple, oranges, bananas, papaya, grapefruit, mango ---"

"Going healthy finally?"

"Look, **you** told me I should eat more fruit and this is the only way I can down the stuff, so ---"

"Hey, no need to get all defensive, Starsk, I was just joshing you. I, uh, I did notice you said papaya and we only have one papaya in the house and it's still sitting here on the fridge."

"Yeah, so?"

"Don't you want it in there?"

Starsky contemplated a moment, looked Hutch straight in the face wondering if this was a trick question.  
"Sure --- I'll,"

"Nope, let me get that for you." Hutch retrieved the papaya, threw it up in the air one time, caught it, then said,  
"Catch!" before throwing the papaya gently toward Starsky, just a tad short so Starsky had to step forward to prevent the piece of fruit from dropping to the floor.

Forgetting his new injury, Starsky lunged forward to save the fruit from falling, twisted, lost his balance and bumped into the kitchen counter.

Hutch had certainly not expected this to happen and instantly was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt over his method. He, in turn, reached forward to come to his friend's aid.  
"Sheesh, Starsk! What the hell's wrong with you?" he exclaimed.

Starsky was panting heavily, his cheeks were flushed and a light sheen of perspiration began to cover his features.  
"What kind of a lame trick was that?" he managed to croak, while holding on to his waist.

"I just wanted to see what was wrong with you, I'm sorry --- but you weren't going to tell me so --"

"So ya think killin' me is gonna do the trick!" Starsky now practically yelled.  
"Whassamatter with you?!"

"What's the matter with me? What's the matter with **you**? Now, give it to me straight. Where does it hurt? Huh? **Tell **me Starsk!"

Starsky just glared at him and attempted to stand up, but Hutch held him down and again noticed Starsky wince at the motion. Hutch pulled up Starsky's shirt and saw a large bruise on Starsky's right flank.  
"Jesus, Starsk! How the hell did you get **this**? **When** did you get this?"

"It's nothin' --- just needs some time ta ---"

"The hell it's nothing! This is serious stuff. I'm gonna get you to a doctor ---"

"NO! No doctor, no hospital. I'm **sick** of that crap -- I don't **wanna** anymore!" Starsky exclaimed emphatically.

Hutch was quiet for a moment. He could imagine that Starsky, after two months of intense care at Memorial and now many weeks of physical therapy already, was beginning to get demoralized by the slow pace of his recuperation.  
"Okay, a compromise then. You tell me how you got this and I won't take you to the hospital. Complete honesty now!"

Starsky managed to control his breathing and his annoyed expression changed into a somewhat guilty one. He briefly made eye contact with his friend before quickly looking back at the floor again.

"Come on, Starsk, spill it."

"Well, ya know you complained the paper was late this morning before ya left for the station?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, I called the delivery service and they said they'd been around -- they didn't have any extra papers left after the round and I ---" Starsky again gave Hutch a quick glance before continuing,  
"---- and I took a look from the landing to see where it couldda landed, so I could point it out to Hank, ya know ----"

"Your mailman friend, yeah I know who Hank is," Hutch interrupted.

"--- but just as I spotted our paper it began to rain, so I figured the thing would be soaked by the time he'd get here so I ---"

"Starsk, you didn't!" Hutch's tone was shifting to that patented paternal tone he used from time to time.

Starsky sighed and continued in a matter of fact tone,  
"--- so I went downstairs to pluck it outta the bushes ----"

"Don't tell me ----" Hutch said in a low voice.

"--- got the paper, started back up the stairs and uhm, then I tripped and sorta fell on the steps----" Starsky quickly interrupted.

Hutch inhaled deeply, a look of horror on his face as he looked into his stubborn, incorrigible friend's face.

"--- the end," Starsky softly finished his account.


	15. ONE OF THOSE DAYS

## ONE OF THOSE DAYS

#### The Climax

Hutch shook his head, slowly at first, more furiously as he got ready for his lecture.  
"What the hell were you thinking? Huh? Just **what the hell** were you thinking, Starsk?  
Did Moses say you could tackle the stairs by yourself already? Huh? Do you have **any **idea what this fall means to your rehab?"

"Quit talkin' ta me like you're my parent --- **I** walked the stairs before, by myself! I ---"

"Never alone, Mushbrain! Either Mo or I were always with you in case you couldn't make it!"

"Nothin' ever happened! I can **do** it! Lookie here, Dickhead ---" Starsky spat out as he waved his hands in front of Hutch's face,  
"--- two hands! We got a banister! **I** can do it. **Alone**!"

"Well apparently not, you idiot! You **fell**, didn't you?" Hutch spat out just as vehemently.

"I **tripped**! Ain't nothin' to do with my condition. The ground was wet, my lace got untied, I tripped! Couldda happened to anybody!" Starsky exclaimed, then a sharp pain in his back made him flinch.

"But it **didn't**! It happened to **you**, and **you **should've used your better judgment than to walk down the stairs by yourself."

The partners glared at each other. Both of them were ready to defend their respective point of view. Then something dawned on Hutch.  
"Wait a minute. Your shoelace got untied? That's impossible. I made sure I double tied them both this morning ---" he looked at Starsky.  
"--- what did you do?" he finally demanded.

"Whaddaya mean?" Starsky tried to play innocent, knowing very well his accident was mostly the result of his own stubbornness.

The shock and horror of seeing the bruise on Starsky's body made Hutch's concern go into overdrive and something in him snapped. All the stress and anxiety that had built up while his partner first lay dying and later was comatose in critical condition resurfaced.  
"You stupid fuck! You untied your shoes and did them up again yourself, didn't you? You know, sometimes I really wonder if you actually **have** a brain, because if you **do**, you surely don't use it, **do you**?! Do you have **any** idea what damage you might have caused with that stunt, huh?"

"Stop patronizing me! I ain't no kid!" Starsky flared.

"You certainly act like one. You **know** you can't tie your shoes yet! Do you realize how irresponsible it was of you to put your rehabilitation in jeopardy like this?"

"I'm not an invalid!" Starsky shrugged off Hutch's hold and with considerable effort pulled himself up.  
"Stop treatin' me like an invalid. I **can **do things for myself --- I **can** go out by myself --- stayin' in here all the time is drivin' me fuckin' nuts!"

Hutch looked up at his tortured friend. He was angry with Starsky for his apparent lack of concern over his own condition. He felt like Starsky seemed to be forgetting already that a few short months ago he had actually been dead for fourteen minutes.

At the same time he knew how much Starsky craved his independence.   
So far, he had never gone out unescorted. Every trip outside, even now, nearly two months after his release from the hospital, he had been with someone to help him, to steady him, to guide him, to sit and wait with him, when his endurance ran out and he had to rest before being able to continue.   
_God, buddy, I know you must be going crazy from being so dependent. Maybe I should talk to Moses to see when you're ready to go out without a chaperone._  
He took a few deep breaths and swallowed down the anger that sprang from deep concern.   
When he had calmed down enough, he spoke again, his voice soft.  
"I know, buddy, I know."

"No, you **don't** know!" Starsky spat out.  
"You get outta your bed, ya take a leak, ya have your vitamin brew, ya tie your shoes and ya go for your jog. That takes ya only fifteen maybe twenty minutes.   
Twenty minutes after **I **get up I'm so goddamned run out already I feel like headin' right back in! I want this trip to be over --- I wanna be **me** again!"   
To emphasize his emotions Starsky lashed out at the blender and it crashed to the kitchen floor in a mass of cut fruit, broken glass and metal.

Hutch was at a loss for words.   
This could very well be the breakdown Moses and Dr. Jamison had mentioned in several conversations he'd had with them. He had been so amazed at Starsky's remarkable ability to cope with his fate. Moses and Jamison had told him even an optimistic person like Starsky would have his psychological breakdown eventually, and now it looked like it had finally arrived.

Hutch's heart ached for the pain and suffering he now witnessed in Starsky, whose entire body was tight with pent up anger, pain and frustration.   
From what he was told, Hutch understood that Starsky most probably only now was beginning to realize his life was changed forever; that he couldn't go back to being the way he was before the shooting. That he had to learn to adjust to the new limits the shooting had set for his body, his abilities. A mourning process, of sorts.

His mind scrambled to find the right tone to express himself, to let Starsky know that no matter what might have changed physically, Starsky as a person, would always be the same to him.  
"It needs time, Starsk. They told you it was a long and hard road ----" Hutch was aware his words would probably mean very little to Starsky, the way he was now.

"Time --- time," Starsky snorted, his voice low and full of grief now.  
He tilted his head up and looked at the ceiling, fighting to keep the tears that welled up in his eyes from spilling.  
"A long hard road --- ain't **that** the truth," he added sarcastically, then paused for a long moment.

Hutch kept quiet, aware of the fact that Starsky was about to have a breakthrough.

Then Starsky turned to face Hutch. For the first time he didn't divert his look but focused straight on Hutch's eyes. The pain and frustration that spoke from his partner's eyes unnerved Hutch enough to make his own eyes moist.

"Ya know somethin'?   
Everyone's been tellin' me what a hero I am.   
How brave I am and how strong, to have survived the shooting, to have come this far.   
What a fighter I am and how they admire my resilience and my determination."

Starsky let out a bitter snort.  
"Let me tell ya, I'm not brave at all. I have nothin' to do with this.   
My heart just kept beatin' --- well, at least it did after they got it back to work again.   
I'm just a dumb ass. I keep goin' cos I don't know no other way.   
But ta tell ya the truth, lately I've been wonderin' if it's all worth it.   
It's taking so fuckin' long and the pain --- shit Hutch, I sometimes thought I couldn't take it no more --- sometimes I still do." Starsky let out a frustrated grunt.  
"But then I think of my family, you, my friends, my job and I think about that sonofabitch who thought he had the right to take everything I love away from me, and I get angry.   
I get to thinkin' 'Who the hell does this asshole think he is? Still tryin' to take my life from me, long after the shots have been fired?' and I go on. Like hell am I gonna let them bastards win. I'm gonna get this over with and bust the rest of that sorry bunch myself."

Hutch was slightly surprised at the tone and content of Starsky's outburst. This wasn't at all like the textbook breakdown the medical staff at Memorial had informed him about. This was not a man mourning what he had lost, this was a man angry and frustrated with the pace of his recovery, still believing he would regain everything that he had lost. Convinced he would get back to normal to avenge himself on those responsible for his misfortune.  
_You never cease to amaze me, Starsk. How do you do it? _Hutch wondered to himself.

Starsky continued his rant.  
"It's just that everythin's taking so long, Hutch.  
I want some results, now! It's all movin' along so damned slow!  
You guys are holding me back!   
I **don't** wanna be baby-sat, I **don't** want you guys hovering over me all the time watchin' my every move. Ya know I **really** think the reason why I still am so tired is because you guys won't let me **do anything**. A person can only rest so much. It's time I got into action cos if I don't, I'll **never** get any better. Workin' out an hour here, an hour there is not **gettin'** me anywhere! Why can't I exercise more, speed things up?   
I bet if I'd do more stuff, exercise more, I wouldn't need your help as much anymore.  
I wouldn't need ya to still have to wash my hair for me, or ta cut my food.  
I wouldn't need ya to tie my laces, unbutton my shirt and whatever the hell else y're doin' for me now!  
I wouldn't need ta wake up in the mornin' feeling jealous because you get ta leave the house and I gotta stay in here, because then I'd be fit enough to get out of the house myself!"

Starsky paused again after his emotional outburst. Then, in a soft voice now, he said,  
"What **really** kills me is that you seem to think I'm not gonna make it. That I'm not strong enough yet. You guys shelter me too much, Hutch. How am I ever gonna get better, if y'all keep pamperin' me?"

"Starsk ---- " Hutch said, with a heavy sigh.  
_How am I going to tell him he's not doing well enough to move to the next level, without destroying his confidence?_

"I can do more already. I can **feel** it!" Starsky exclaimed with that characteristic sense of optimism.

Carefully weighing what he should say in his mind, Hutch looked at his optimistic yet frustrated friend.  
Finally he said in a soft voice,  
"Look, Starsk. I'm not going to pretend I know how you must be feeling. I won't because I can't. But I **do** know **you**, and I know your impatient nature. I also know you were dead for fourteen minutes just three short months ago. You're the optimist here so you **must** know how big a miracle it is that we are even having this ---- conversation now."

The partners looked at each other for a spell before Hutch continued.  
"Point is, that we came so close to losing you we've become a bit --- how shall I put it --- concerned about ----"

"Overly!" Starsky interrupted.

"Well, maybe, maybe not. Fact of the matter is that logically speaking, you shouldn't be standing here worrying the hell out of me and turning this kitchen into the mess it is now!"

Starsky looked at the mess on the kitchen floor.

"All we want is for you to be yourself again. But it takes time. Moses would not forbid you to do certain things for no reason. You have to trust his and Dr. Jamison's opinions. If they think you should take it easy for now, you should. We all are on the same side, buddy. We all want you to heal completely. **You** know that," Hutch finished softly.

A long silence settled over the kitchen. The emotions suddenly became too much for Starsky as it dawned on him where Hutch's outburst came from. He hated himself for being responsible for upsetting his best friend, even if he still thought he was capable of doing much more than the medical staff at Memorial would allow him to.  
With a wavering voice he mumbled,  
"I'm sorry, Hutch --- I'm sorry for freakin' ya out."

Hutch got up, almost slipped on a piece of banana, and opened his arms to Starsky.   
Drained from the emotional scene, Starsky half fell into his partner's arms. Suddenly he felt so horribly tired. The friends just stood there for some time, Hutch rocking his distraught partner back to calm again. Then he held Starsky at arm's length and looked into his face. _Oh, buddy, look at you. You look so tired, so worn. I wish I could do more for you._  
In a soft voice he told Starsky,  
"Look, why don't you just get comfortable on the couch for a bit while I clean all this and then I'll take a closer look at that bruise, see what I can do to make it better. Okay?"

At the end of his strength Starsky nodded his head and let Hutch lead him to the couch where he soon fell asleep. Hutch picked up the receiver of the phone in the kitchen and dialed a number.  
"Yeah, it's Hutch. Could you put me through to Captain Dobey, please. Thank you.  
Captain, I'm going to stay with Starsky this afternoon. He took a fall and banged himself up pretty bad.   
(---) What?   
(---) No, no I think I can take care of it myself, thank you.   
(---) Yeah, a real bad day. I thought he hit that low the hospital told us about?   
(---) Right. In the end it turned out he needed to vent, but I'm afraid the big bang's still out there somewhere.  
(---) No, he's asleep right now, totally worn out.  
(---) I **know**, he **was** doing great. That's why Moses took his vacation time now. He'll be back Monday.   
(---) Yeah, I think he might be coming down with something, too. I didn't think he was all there this morning, even before he fell so --- I don't know.  
(---) Yeah, yeah, maybe I will.  
(---) Okay, thanks Cap. Say hello to the family for me.   
(---) Will do. See you tomorrow.  
(---) What? Well, if he's just sore from the fall he's going to kick me out of the house anyway, so I'll see you tomorrow. All right. Bye."

He hung up the receiver and looked in on Starsky again, who was still sleeping.  
Then Hutch cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. _Mental note: have to get a new blender tomorrow!_ he thought to himself as he threw the destroyed piece of kitchen equipment in the trash can. After another glance at a sleeping Starsky he decided to let his partner get his well-earned rest and opened the front door. He sat down on the stairs and let the wind dry the tears on his face.


	16. ONE OF THOSE DAYS

## ONE OF THOSE DAYS

#### The Aftermath

Starsky woke up later that afternoon, when Hutch was busy in the bedroom with the laundry. He felt even worse than he had this morning and the fresh bruise on his side didn't help much either.  
In fact, he hadn't felt this bad since he was laid up in the hospital.  
He tried to sit up and only barely managed, not being able to stifle a groan of agony.

Hutch immediately exited the bedroom.  
"Did you call me?" he asked anxiously, instantly alarmed by his friend's flushed appearance.

"No ---" Starsky knew he wouldn't be able to hide anything from his partner, and he was in no condition to do his usual song and dance to hide how he felt, so he asked straight out,  
"Is it time for a pill, yet?"

"That bad, huh?" Hutch replied as he made his way over to the couch.  
"You look kind of flushed there, buddy. How are you feeling?" he asked as he reached out to feel Starsky's forehead.

Starsky ducked and the sudden movement made him wince in pain, but he was not going to be "mother henned" by Hutch tonight. He assumed as casual a tone as he could muster.  
"I'm fine! And I'll be even better if ya get a glass 'a water and my drugs," he wiggled his eyebrows and the distraction worked.

Hutch shook his head and grinned.  
"One of a kind, Starsk, one of a kind," he said as he went to the kitchen.

A minute later he returned with the much-needed painkiller and a glass of water. He waited patiently until Starsky had taken his medicine then went into the kitchen to start dinner.

Meanwhile Starsky was shifting to a more comfortable position on the couch. He felt positively horrible but in no way was going to let Hutch know that, certainly not after the debacle of a few hours ago. He knew Hutch would only rub it in more and he was in no mood to be lectured, even if he deserved it. Besides, Hutch's birthday was just a few days away and **nothing** was going to interfere with that.  
The change of body posture brought on a terrible coughing attack that felt like he was being torn apart inside.

While Hutch was busy in the kitchen, he could hear Starsky coughing from the living room.  
At first he hardly noticed it, but as it became more persistent and its sound changed to a hacking cough, he walked into the living room where he caught Starsky coughing while holding on to his chest.

"Hey, buddy? Sounds like you caught a major cold there, huh?" he softly inquired.

"Dunno," Starsky croaked, his voice definitely sounding congested.

"Must've caught that this morning when you were out in the rain, Starsk! Let me see if you're running a temperature." Hutch pressed his hand against Starsky's forehead. His temperature was just a bit high, though not yet feverish.

"I don't have no fever, Hutch! It's just a little cough, it'll pass," Starsky whined.

"Yeah, well just to be on the safe side, I'm going to get you your sweater."

"A sweater? Hutch, it's 200 degrees today! I'm hot as it is, man! No sweater please!" Starsky yelled after Hutch, who'd gone to the bedroom to retrieve a sweater. Again Starsky coughed violently.

"I don't like the sound of that at all! If this keeps up much longer, I'm calling Dr. Matthews." Matthews was Starsky's regular physician who had been totally informed by the hospital on his condition since the shooting.

"Forgeddaboudit!" Starsky responded quickly.  
"Hutch, will ya just stop fussing over me like I'm a little kid! Did ya forget the conversation we had today already! I didn't send ma home for nothin' ya know! Stop acting like you're my mom!"

"Starsk ----" Hutch started a reprimand but was interrupted by another terrible cough attack of Starsky's. The cough sounded heavy, like it came from the very core of Starsky's body.  
"At least let me go to the pharmacy, get you something that'll stop the coughing, huh?"

Still coughing, Starsky waved a hand at Hutch, signaling his agreement.

Hutch went over to the stove and turned it off. He retrieved his jacket and his keys and was just about to leave the apartment when Starsky was hit by another violent cough attack.  
With one foot outside the apartment already, Hutch was chilled to the bone by Starsky's panicked outcry.

"Huuuuuuutch!"

Instantly, Hutch turned around. The sight his eyes encountered made his heart drop into his shoes.

Starsky was looking up at him with saucer sized, frightened eyes as he held up his left hand. It was covered with traces of blood.

"What the ---" Hutch muttered. Again Starsky coughed violently and Hutch could clearly see some blood spraying from his friend's mouth.  
"Oh my God!" he exclaimed as he rushed to Starsky's side.

"Hutch, what's happenin' --- where's the blood comin' from?" Starsky grunted between coughs, both hands splattered with tiny specks of blood now, a thin stream of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth.

Both partners feared the same thing. That Starsky may have ruptured something internally.

"Hold on, Starsk, I've got to get you to the hospital," Hutch said frantically and rushed over to the phone.

"No! No hospital!" Starsky managed.

"You shut up!" Hutch snapped at his partner, in panic.  
"Yeah --- oper---- operator uhm, this is Kenneth Hutchinson, I need an ambulance immediately. I have a person here with a gunshot wound to the right lung and he's coughing up blood --- huh? No, he wasn't just shot --- he was shot three months ago --- no ---- no listen ---- he's got a cold and he's coughing violently and now he's coughing up blood. 32, white male --- yes --- " Hutch proceeded to give the address to the emergency operator while keeping his eyes trained on his friend.

Starsky's appearance was a mass of contradictions by now. His color was a grayish white, except for his cheeks which were flushed a bright shade of red. He was sweating and shivering at the same time.

_Shit, why does Moses have to be away on vacation. Dammit!!!!_ Hutch's thoughts were tumbling through his mind as he could practically see Starsky deteriorate right before his eyes.  
_That's just fantastic. Leave him in my care for just a few days and he's back to square one. And everyone always says you're such a fantastic caregiver! Yeah, fantastic all right!_

"Sit tight, help is on its way. I'm gonna --- I'm gonna --- I'll --- I'll get you a sweater. Stay there!" he called out to Starsky, his panic increasing by the minute.

In the bedroom he fumbled to find a sweater, steadily accompanied in the background by the horrible sound of another bad coughing fit.  
"Goddammit, don't do this to him God! He's had enough --- he's fucking had enough!" Hutch muttered under his breath before returning to the living room, where Starsky was now half slumped over on his, injured, right side.

"Come on, Starsk, sit up. We have to get this sweater on you, come on, work with me here," Hutch whispered into Starsky's ear, as he could see his friend was still coughing up minute amounts of blood.

"No -- no! I'm ----" more violent coughing and moaning from Starsky.

"Don't talk, don't talk. Come on, sit up now. Come on, work with me, Starsk!"

"Don't want a sweater --- hot," Starsky moaned, drained of energy by the violent coughing.

"Shut up, will you! You ---" Hutch was interrupted by the sound of the ambulance's siren.

"You called an ambulance!" Starsky complained sending Hutch a cold look.

Hutch ignored his friend and leaped up to open the door. The paramedics arrived and Hutch explained the situation to them, while Starsky was just as adamantly contradicting everything Hutch was telling them.

The paramedics quickly assessed the situation. One of them turned to Hutch while his colleague was still working on Starsky.  
"The blood is nothing. I think he just busted a vein from coughing so hard. But considering his recent medical history I think it's better to take him in, to check his lungs for an infection and to check out that bruise. He doesn't have a serious fever, but we just want to be on the safe side."

Hutch nodded his head, partially relieved, and partially still anxious.

The second paramedic turned to Starsky.  
"Mr. Starsky? We are going to strap you to the gurney and we're going to take you to the hospital to have that bruise and that cough checked out, okay? Now you be sure to tell us if you experience any discomfort, right? You are going to be just fine."

"Can't you guys just give me somethin' here? I really don't wanna ---" a new cough attack interrupted Starsky.

"You're going to the hospital, Starsk, and that's final!" Hutch lectured.

Soon the parade went down the narrow stairs and Hutch followed the ambulance in his car.

Once in the hospital Starsky was rushed over to the emergency room while Hutch was left pacing the corridor.  
_What the hell is taking them so long? It's been over fifteen minutes already._

The sound of shoes quickly walking the length of the corridor made him turn around. Dr. Jamison had just entered the hospital. Apparently he had been paged to take a look at Starsky.  
As he recognized Hutch, Jamison nodded to the detective. A nurse stepped out of the cubicle where Starsky was being treated and motioned the doctor inside. Everything went too quickly for Hutch to be able to say anything to the doctor.  
_Shit, if they've paged Jamison something's wrong. Goddammit, why the hell does Starsk have to suffer so? When the hell is fate ever going to let him be?  
_He dropped into one of the plastic chairs and waited.

To his surprise Jamison was out of the cubicle within ten minutes time. He smiled gently at Hutch as he sat down next to him.  
"Hmm, if I wouldn't know any better I'd pull you into another cubicle and started some emergency treatment on you! You look like hell."

Tired beyond belief, Hutch smiled back at Jamison.  
"How is he, doc?"

"Well, it all looked a lot worse than it really was. You don't have to worry about the blood. That was just a little burst vein in his throat from the violent coughing. We gave him something to fight that and to clear his airways. He's got an infection of the airways, a small slime deposit on his right lung, a very slight fever and a very bad cold, but nothing serious. I'm more concerned about the bruise on his side."

Hutch nodded his head while sighing heavily.

"I understand he took a fall? Does he still trip and fall a lot?"

Hutch sighed again.  
"Well, you know him, doc. He wants to do everything himself, even the stuff he's not supposed to do yet. It's all taking too much time for him. He feels he's ready to move on."

Jamison nodded his head.  
"Yes, that sounds like Dave, all right. He's probably the most impatient patient I've ever had," Jamison chuckled.  
"I think I should have a good talk with Moses about that and perhaps have our neurologist take another look at him, too."

Hutch was immediately alerted.  
"Why? Do you suspect something is wrong?"

"Oh, no, no, don't worry. Just a precaution to assess his current condition and then perhaps we can adjust his schedule. It's been about three months, right? Since the shooting?"

Hutch nodded his head.  
"Yes, he's been home seven weeks now."

"Hmmm. I tell you what I will do. Dave will have to stay overnight, he already knows that. We're going to take him to X-ray right now for some thorax shots, but I'll include some lumbar shots and a CAT scan as well. I'll talk to Dr. Foretti, our neurologist, tomorrow and when Moses gets back from his vacation we'll all re-assess Dave's schedule based on the outcome of all the X-rays and test results. How's that?"

Hutch just sat there, numbly absorbing what was said.

Jamison patted the detective's arm.  
"He's doing fine. You can see him just before we take him up."

"Is he really, Doc? I mean, is he really doing fine? Is he where you expected him to be at this point in time?"

Jamison sighed and took a moment to answer.  
"Detective -- Ken, we have never had a patient brought in, in the condition Dave was in, and survive for more than an hour after arrival. He's been a constant source of concern and intense medical treatment all through his stay here, but the fact that we were indeed still able to treat him was a miracle to begin with."

Jamison looked Hutch deeply in the eyes.  
"For all intents and purposes, Ken, he shouldn't **be** here **at all** right now. Period. Enough said?" Jamison smiled at Hutch.

Hutch returned the doctor's smile.  
"Enough said."

A nurse exited the cubicle.  
"We're ready, Dr. Jamison."

Jamison and Hutch entered the cubicle where Starsky was on a bed, oxygen mask on, IV hooked up to his right arm.  
Suddenly all the tension inside Hutch came out full force, as he was confronted with this all too familiar scene again. He couldn't control himself and a few tears slowly slid down his cheeks as he stood trembling next to Dr. Jamison.

Jamison understood Hutch had reached his breaking point and put his arm around Hutch's shoulder. Meanwhile Starsky took off his oxygen mask and worriedly asked,  
"Hutch? What's wrong? -- Doc, ya **did** tell him I'm all right, didn't ya?"

Jamison nodded at his patient while Hutch ferociously tried to wipe away the tears and to control his trembling.

"Hey, Hutch. The blood was nothin'. I just busted a little vein. Doc just wants to keep me overnight so I can fight this bug, 's all. I'll probably be out tomorrow, right Doc?" Starsky sounded like a little kid trying to console a grieving parent.

"He knows, Dave. Well, we have to take you upstairs in five minutes. I'll leave you two until then," Jamison said and motioned the nurse and orderlies they should leave the two detectives alone.

Hutch finally managed to control himself a bit and stood, with blotched face, next to Starsky's bed.

"Hey?" Starsky softly said, just a bit shocked by Hutch's outbreak,  
"Are you okay? What happened? Did Doc tell ya somethin' he didn't tell me?"

Hutch took some time until he felt secure about how his voice would sound before answering Starsky.  
"I'm, I'm fine --- just --- just overreacting a bit --- you know me."   
He smiled shyly at his friend.  
"I'm just glad it's nothing serious. For a while there you had me worried."

Starsky snorted, followed by one cough, before answering,  
"No kiddin'! Hey, you look awful. Why don'tcha go home, have some dinner, catch some zees. They'll take care of me here. You just take it easy, okay?"

"I want to see you settled in for the night."

"Oh, come on man, you know the drill. Same old, same old, just like always. You've seen it plenty of times recently --- it's just gonna be the same thing. Come on, go on home Hutch. I'll be fine -- I promise."

Starsky's pleading look convinced Hutch, as did his body, which literally ached all over from stress and fatigue.  
"Okay, all right. Now you take it easy and do as you're told, okay? Be a good patient for once," his last remark made him bite his lower lip, but thankfully Starsky didn't take that remark personally.  
"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, 'kay."

Hutch turned and left the cubicle but heard Starsky call his name again, so he went right back in.  
"What?"

"Don't tell anyone I'm back in, okay? I'll be out before ya know it -- no one needs ta know."

"Starsky, I can't do that! I have to ---"

"Well, at least don't call my mom or she'll hop on the next flight over. Please, Hutch?"

Hutch sighed deeply but couldn't resist the little boy look on Starsky's face so he nodded his head.  
"Okay, I won't --- not unless she or anyone else asks me about something specific. You know I won't lie to your mom! Now you go rest, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Hutch. See ya tomorrow."


	17. ONE OF THOSE DAYS

## ONE OF THOSE DAYS

#### The Release

Hutch left the hospital dazed and drained.  
_Why? Why, Starsk? Why do you put yourself in jeopardy like this? Have you forgotten you almost died just a few short months ago?_  
He snorted as he unlocked the door to the Torino and settled behind the steering wheel.  
He sighed and stared ahead.  
_I have to ask why? I **know** why. You want to be you again -- I empathize. God, do I empathize. **I** want you to be you again - to be whole again._  
Another sigh and a shrug of the tight shoulders. He didn't feel like returning to the empty apartment yet. So he started the car and drove over to The Pits.

Huggy saw the tired gait of his battered looking blond friend. He was surprised to see him enter his establishment. He wouldn't leave Starsky alone at night in the apartment, now that his mother had returned to New York.  
"Hey, what it is?" Huggy greeted Hutch, as he closely studied the detective's face and mood.

"Hey, Hug -- " his voice sounded hoarse.

"What's up my man? Who's watchin' Curly?" Huggy needed to know. He was unprepared for Hutch's reaction.

Hutch just made a choking sound and looked to be on the verge of tears. He was obviously embarrassed by his own lack of control over his emotions.  
"Shit --- whooo, where did **that **come from, huh? I'm -- I'm sor -- sorry --- Hug."

Huggy was alarmed at Hutch's emotional state and pulled Hutch up the stairs while calling out  
"Anita -- take over will you? I have some business to take care off --- hold my calls."

In the upstairs office Huggy pulled up a chair and steered Hutch toward it, forcing him to sit down. He went to the filing cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. After filling both glasses with a shot he pushed one glass over to Hutch and softly said  
"Here you go -- you look like you can use this."

Hutch rubbed his face with his hands and just shook his head continuously while looking at the floor.

"Hey man! You're scarin' me! What the hell ---" Huggy paused, afraid to utter the words. Afraid of what the answer might be. Ever since the shooting, hell, ever since Starsky passed over to the other side for that fourteen-minute span, anything to do with his dark curly haired friend filled Huggy with an almost palpable concern.  
"Who's watching Starsky?" he finally asked.

Hutch blew his nose, then put away his handkerchief. He grabbed the glass of whiskey and said, as he looked into it,  
"The staff at Memorial."

Huggy's heartbeat accelerated.  
"Why? What --- Is he ---?"

"He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this --- but I have to -- I just have to." Hutch cleared his throat but his voice remained uncharacteristically hoarse when he informed Huggy.  
"This whole healing process is taking too long for him. So the dumb ass is doing things he's not supposed to or even allowed to yet."

Hutch sighed and took a swig of whiskey before finishing his account.  
"He took a fall this morning at the bottom of the stairs and sat in the rain for a while before being able to make it back up to the apartment. --- So, the end of the story is that now he's back in Memorial with a nasty bruise on his side, the most horrible hacking cough I've ever heard and a respiratory infection ---."

"Shit man --- like when he first got home?

Hutch nodded his head.  
"Perhaps a bit worse now ---"

"Shoot, that's heavy."

Hutch finished his drink.  
"You better believe it." He studied the palms of his hands.  
"I don't know what to do anymore, Hug. I don't know what to do. I understand his longing to be himself again. I understand his frustrations about it all taking so long. But what I don't understand is that he doesn't seem to see just how bad he still really is!"

Hutch's voice went up in frustration as he uttered the last words. He looked at Huggy with an almost desperate expression in his eyes.  
"Huggy, you have no idea -- **I** had no idea how much damage was done until I started caring for him." A snorting sound escaped Hutch.  
"Hug, he can't even unscrew a tube of toothpaste by himself yet! He can't wash his own hair. He can't really cut his own meat --- if he bends over too far, you know just to pick something up off the floor, he just keels over. He can't read longer than one hour on end before getting a splitting headache. He can't watch TV too long or he starts getting double vision. He can't really run. He can only walk two blocks before needing a rest. He can't tie his shoelaces properly--"

Hutch sent a desperate glance over to Huggy, who patiently waited until his friend had unburdened himself.  
"I don't understand how he can still be so unaware of his --- condition. He truly believes he can do stuff for himself now. He's even let it slip that maybe I should return to my own apartment again, too, and soon." Hutch sighed. Then he softly continued.  
"If I'd do that now, I would feel like I was leaving a five year old to fend for himself, you know? He's not ready -- but he refuses to see it!"

Huggy thought for a long moment. Then he sized up Hutch before taking the plunge.  
"Now listen to me, Amigo, what I'm gonna tell you may sting --- but love hurts at times, ya know?"  
He sighed, then took a deep breath before continuing.  
"An infant is never gonna learn how to walk, if he doesn't fall from time to time --- If his momma and daddy keep holding him in their arms, or won't let go of his hand ---. You have to let go my friend. He seems to believe in himself, so that means he's getting his confidence back. That's good news, Hutch! You should be celebrating! So stop holdin' his hand. You know he'll reach for yours in case he really needs it! If he doesn't want to be pampered right now, don't. Contrary to this self imposed image ya got, he ain't no chicky and you're no mother hen!"

Hutch looked at his friend, chuckled and looked at his glass.  
"What kind of miracle brew is this?" he joked.  
"Did you ever consider changing professions?"

"I know I would be an absolute jewel in the crown of the psychiatric profession," Huggy said as he filled Hutch's glass again,  
"But that would be an equally devastating loss to the world of free enterprise, now wouldn't it?"

The friends laughed and touched their glasses in a toast.


	18. ONE OF THOSE DAYS

## ONE OF THOSE DAYS

#### The Epilogue

The phone rang so insistently that he woke up. Just before lifting the receiver, he could see on his alarm it was a little past 3 a.m.  
"Hello?" he asked with a voice still thick with sleep.

"Is this Detective Hutchinson?" a voice on the other end of the line asked.

"Yes, who's this?"

"It's Joan Callahan from Memorial Hospital."

He could have sworn his heart missed a beat. The hospital calling at 3 a.m. could only mean bad news.  
"Wh--- what is it--- how -- how is he? How's Detective Starsky?" he stumbled over his words.

"I'm afraid we have bad news, Detective. Mr. Starsky has taken a turn for the worse. We think it wise if you could come over here as soon as possible and notify any other close friends and relatives."

The trembling started all over again as soon as he had thrown the receiver back onto the hook. He frantically tried to undo his sheets and blankets to get up and get over to Memorial before it was too late. He cursed his clumsiness as the blankets seemed to have a hold on him and wouldn't let go.  
He finally untangled himself and got dressed haphazardly before running out of the apartment, taking off in the Torino with screeching tires. Upon arrival at the hospital's parking lot he practically parked the car into a wall and abandoned it without a backward glance as he ran toward the entrance, toward the elevators, toward Starsky's room.   
He arrived, his breath wheezing uncontrollably, just as Dr. Jamison pulled the sheet over his friend's face.  
The ground beneath him crumbled and swallowed him whole, he reached out his arms in a vain attempt to hold on to something. A loud crash followed.

He sat up straight on the sofa bed and wanted to turn on the light. It was only then that he realized he'd been having a nightmare. The crash that had woken him up was the lamp he had knocked over in the heat of his dream.  
He scrambled in the dark on the floor to pick up the lamp, which luckily was still in one piece and turned it on.

3:11 a.m. An unsettling feeling grabbed hold of his stomach.  
_Should I call the hospital to check on Starsk? **Did** they call me? Are they **going** to call me? Will he be --- is he still all right? Jamison said it was nothing serious. But still ---- Oh, I shouldn't worry. He's in good hands. But what if --- no, I'm not going to call. Shit --- what a rotten dream. What if --- no --- no --- he's okay._

He sighed and looked around. Starsky's apartment was so still, so empty without its main occupant.  
Hutch got up and went to the bathroom, contemplating what to do next. 3:18 a.m. _Oh, what the hell. I **need **to know!_

He dialed the number he knew by heart now.  
Soon the night nurse in the IC unit picked up.

"Yes, uhm, it's Detective Hutchinson. You have a Dave Starsky there on your floor. Could you tell me how he's doing? -- Uh huh --- uh huh --- oh, that's great, that's just great. What? No thank you, that's all I need to know. ---- You too, thank you. Goodnight."

He put down the receiver with a sigh of relief. Starsky would be coming home again tomorrow and was resting comfortably now.  
He rearranged his pillow and his blankets, turned off the light and went back to sleep, a smile of relief on his face.


	19. THE COMEBACK KID

## THE COMEBACK KID

The 28th of August, Hutch's birthday, was a day filled with mixed emotions.

As often before, Hutch's birthday coincided with the annual Police Department family day.   
Hutch had really not wanted to participate this year, especially after Starsky's overnight hospital stay just two short days ago, but Starsky was adamant about going.   
Feeling mighty brave lately, three and a half months after the shooting, he grabbed every opportunity to go out and see other people. Except for his recent hospital stay, which he personally chalked up as a "fluke", his stamina had been returning gradually, as had his appetite. His motor functions were well enough now for him to finally be able to completely ditch the wheelchair and the walker.

Inside the house he was back to being "the man" again; outside crooked sidewalks and thresholds would sometimes still cause him to falter or worse lose his balance all together and actually fall. But his stubborn determination made him a real "comeback kid" and he was always ready to get back on his feet and try again.

So, Hutch had to give in to Starsky's persistent whining and now they drove up into the parking lot of the section of the park reserved for the BCPD. This was the first time Starsky would be seeing most of his colleagues again. Several of them had visited him in the hospital or at home, but this was the first time Starsky was actually coming to be with them as one of the group again.

As Hutch brought the LTD to a stop he glanced over at Starsky who was looking out the passenger window with great anticipation. Hutch was a mass of contradicting emotions.   
On the one hand watching Starsky's enthusiasm made him smile inside.   
_Look at you, like a five-year-old at the carnival, ready to go on all the rides. God, Starsk, only about one hundred days ago you were actually dead. D-E-A-D! And here you are, filled with more will to live than ----_ Then the dark thoughts took over. After all Starsky had been hospitalized for the umpteenth time only 48 hours ago. He abandoned the thought as Starsky abruptly turned to face him, his face one big smile.

"Look, Hutch! The place has really filled up! Do you smell that? I think Robinson is manning the barbecue again. Terrific!" He was actually smacking his lips.

Hutch shook his head.  
"So, you just want to sit here and drool all over my seats, or should we go up there and join the rest?" he asked, still not convinced having Starsky back in circulation so soon after his setback was such a good idea.

Starsky made a face then turned and scrambled to open his door. Since Hutch's LTD was about as reliable as its predecessor, Hutch had made it around to the passenger side before Starsky had managed to open his door.

"Okay?" Hutch asked.

"Yeah, I've got it," Starsky answered.

Hutch helped Starsky out of the seat in one fluent move. This action had become second nature between them, since Starsky had become more mobile and they'd been going places by car. As soon as Starsky was vertical and steady on his feet, Hutch let go of his arms, but always walked near Starsky and always kept a sharp eye out for any obstacles that might trip his friend.

As soon as they made it to the picnic grounds, the first of their fellow officers noticed them and approached. The grass on the picnic grounds could use some trimming and Starsky needed all his concentration to keep his feet from getting stuck on the uneven parts. Hutch, of course, anticipated this and he kept Starsky from tripping by reaching for him every time he noticed any odd move his partner made.

"Hey, it's Martin and Lewis!" Sergeant Jablowski called out to the partners, as soon as he noticed them approaching.

Starsky simply beamed when he noticed that Jablowski's exclamation had been loud enough to turn the heads of some of their other, fellow officers.

Soon they all met around a picnic table. Hands were shaken, pats on the backs exchanged and there was laughter and genuine relief of everyone present at the realization that Starsky seemed to be well on the way to recovery.

Despite being happy for and with Starsky, who was truly enjoying the warm welcome from his peers, Hutch couldn't shake his conflicting emotions. When he heard some of his fellow policemen express to Starsky how glad they were to see he was doing well enough to be rejoining them at the station soon, he almost felt physically ill.

"You'd better use some sun-block, Ken, you're already turning red as a lobster!"   
Edith Dobey's voice startled Hutch out of his reverie.  
"Are you all right, Ken?"

"Huh? Oh, hi, Edith. Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you."

"Happy Birthday, Ken! What a wonderful day to be celebrating, right?" Edith exclaimed, as she threw her arms around Hutch.

"Thank you. Yes it is. Thank you so much."

"Look at that face!" Edith said with a grin, as she pointed at Starsky,  
"He really loves being back with the gang again, doesn't he?"

Hutch just smiled, and kept his real feelings to himself.

"Congratulations, Hutchinson!"  
Captain Dobey approached from the parking lot, hand in hand with Rosie, Cal a few feet behind. As soon as Rosie spotted Starsky down by the picnic tables, she pulled her hand out of her father's and skipped in Starsky's direction.

"Honey, aren't you forgetting something?" Edith asked her little girl, while nodding her head in Hutch's direction.

"Oh, yeah! Congratulations, Hutch. I bet this is your happiest birthday ever, right?"

"Thank you, pumpkin. And why would that be? Because I got a kiss from the prettiest girl at the picnic?" Hutch replied, holding the little girl in his arms.

"No, silly. Because Dave's here to celebrate it with us! He's getting better all the time, isn't that great?!"

The smile Hutch produced didn't quite reach his eyes. Of course he was happy that his partner was still alive, but just how happy should he be at the prospect of Starsky fully recovering again? Well enough to get back on the streets, with all the risks that would entail. He shook his head as if to literally shake the thoughts away.  
"Yeah, that's fantastic, sweetheart. Why don't you go say hello to him? He'll be thrilled to see you."

He let the little girl go to her friend. He wondered what was wrong with him. Was he envious that the Dobey's pretty little daughter preferred Starsky over him now? _That's stupid! Starsky's injuries had made a big impact on everybody, so of course the child's deeply impressed and concerned about her friend. Get a grip, Hutchinson!_ he mentally scolded himself.

The voices were getting louder by the picnic tables and the group of policemen were getting into some action. Some of the men hauled around large boxes, others were pulling carts with equipment. It was time for the annual softball match. Soon the teams were chosen and the places taken on the field. The wives and children took their positions around the field. Starsky and some other injured and pregnant officers joined the spectators.

Chief Ryan took the microphone before the game to welcome everybody and to explain the, special, rules for the game. He also took the opportunity to welcome Starsky back.  
"Okay, now it gives me great pleasure to welcome one of our finest back in our midst, today. He's not a model cop. He doesn't even look like a cop. But he has the heart of a true officer of the law. We didn't always see eye to eye on everything, but I'm with the rest of everyone here when I say we're thankful to the great big Chief in the heavens, to have him still with us, and to see he's doing so well. Detective First Grade, Sergeant David Starsky, welcome back."

Everyone applauded and Starsky grinned from ear to ear and even shook hands with Chief Ryan. Then the game began. The teams were huge, as every policemen who wanted to participate, was allowed to join one of the two teams. Players had to rotate, so that everyone could get at least one turn.

Halfway through the game, the entire crowd sang Happy Birthday to Hutch, and Cal Dobey got Starsky's present for Hutch out of the trunk of his dad's car. Starsky had the gift delivered to the Dobey residence, so Hutch wouldn't stumble across it by accident at his own apartment.

From the guys in Homicide, Hutch received a new pair of track shoes, as he was slowly picking up running again. From Narcotics he received coupons from a garage; a subtle hint to have some repairs done to his LTD. Edith had made no less than six huge cakes for all the participants at the picnic, which was the Dobey's gift for his birthday. He received several individual gifts as well, ranging from books, to running shorts, sunglasses, pens, a mustache trimmer and of course the fishing gear from Starsky. Starsky made a point of presenting Hutch with the gift by taking the microphone and giving a speech.  
"Okay, okay everybody. I wanna say a few words here ---- on the occasion of my partner's 50th birthday ----" the crowd laughed when Hutch wagged his finger at Starsky.

"Nah, really, he's just a kid --- he only looks old," Starsky added, really on a roll.  
"No, seriously now, guys. I want y'all to grab your cups, and cans and whatever, grab something liquid, cos I wanna propose a toast to the best partner, the best friend a guy could ask for. He's one of the main reasons I'm still here, able to get up here and salute him. He saved my butt on more than one occasion --- what?" Starsky asked, when someone reminded him there were little kids in the audience as well.

"Oh, I'm sorry --- uhm, he uh, Hutch saved my life on more than one occasion -- and, uh, he's helped me get back on my feet again, this time as well. So, I wanna propose a toast to Kenneth Hutchinson. Not just for being a heck of a cop, not just for being an okay singer -- did ya bring your guitar, Blintz? Not just for being a terrific partner on the job, but first and foremost, for being the best friend a man could wish for. To the Blintz!"

Hutch was just as moved as he was annoyed by Starsky's speech, by his success as the life of the party and by his apparent determination to return to life as it was before the shooting. Still, he mustered a big smile and he really genuinely was moved when he unpacked Starsky's present.  
He knew fishing wasn't Starsky's idea of having fun, and so he realized how much his friend cared for him, to give him something he didn't particularly cared to share or be part of. He understood Starsky was giving him a piece of himself back, and that moved him more than it irritated him. It all fell into place. The words Huggy had spoken to him, two nights ago. He would have to let Starsky go. It was time to see how well Starsky could do on his own.

"Hey, Blintz. Is it a good rod? The guy at the store claimed it was, so I figured I'd get it for ya." Starsky put his arm around Hutch's shoulders.

"It's beautiful, Starsk. Just right. Thanks, buddy."

"You're welcome. It's the least I could do to --- ya know ----" Starsky said.

Hutch looked his friend straight in the eyes.  
"Yeah, I know." He turned his attention back at the fishing equipment.  
"If this weather keeps up, I just might try this out one of these days ----"

With these words he let Starsky know he understood he would have to let go, but that he would do so, gradually.

Starsky looked at him and nodded his head in understanding. Then the noises from the field attracted their attention as the game had started again, and soon they found their place in the crowd to cheer for their respective teams.


	20. BACK IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT

## BACK IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT

The day after his birthday, Hutch had returned to working his normal shift at the station. The term normal was still a relative one, considering the fact that Captain Dobey allowed Hutch to strictly work the day shift. But Dobey had accommodated his two best men, so Hutch could still be with Starsky on regular evening hours.

But Starsky's need for independence screamed for even more freedom and so Hutch acquiesced, moving his wardrobe and other small items he'd been using during his stay at Starsky's apartment, back to Venice Place. He did so with a heavy heart, still not convinced that Starsky was really up to caring for himself. But both Huggy and Moses convinced him that leaving Starsky to fend for himself more, was the right thing to do.  
_If the medical profession thinks he's ready, then who am I to object? _he'd asked himself, reluctantly giving in to the general consensus that Starsky was ready.

So, after having had dinner together on August 30th, the two friends stood in Starsky's kitchen doing the dishes. Hutch glanced at Starsky who was rinsing the dishes and decided to take the plunge.

"What would you say if I --- if I'd sleep over at my place tonight --- pick you up in the morning for your PT, huh?  
He forced himself to speak in a light tone, though the little voice inside him fiercely objected his spoken suggestion.

Starsky stopped rinsing for a moment and looked him straight in the face. After studying his blond friend for a long moment, he quietly said.  
"You think you're ready for that?"

_You're asking me if **I'm** ready for that?_ Hutch contemplated his friend's question for a beat. _God, you're actually right ---- You always could see right through me, partner. _He smiled wearily and softly answered,  
"Honestly? Probably not as ready as you are ----- but I'm just a phone call away in case ---"  
He stopped himself from saying what he really thought; _in case you need me ---. _Instead he answered the way he knew his partner would like it.  
"In case I need some company ----."

Starsky couldn't hide his happiness over this last proof of regained independence and grinned widely before answering Hutch.  
"Hey, just call me the minute ya get home. I'm not goin' anywhere!"

Still the look on Hutch's face tugged at his heart and made him realize what a sacrifice it was for his friend to leave him alone all night for the first time since the shooting. He reached out and touched Hutch's arm.  
"Thanks, Hutch."

And so at 9 p.m., Hutch left Starsky alone for the first time. With a heavy heart he drove home to Venice Place and fought the urge to pick up the phone and call his friend, the very second he'd stepped into his own living room.  
He finally made the call at 9:45 p.m.

The phone was picked up in a very characteristic way.  
"Still breathin'."

He sighed and chuckled at the same time over Starsky's attitude.  
"Very funny. What time's your session tomorrow?"

"**You've** got a PT calendar, too, remember?"

_No time to be a wise guy, Starsk.  
_"Well, I didn't memorize it, you know?!"

A sigh on the other side of the line.  
"Lemme take a look --- 10 o'clock."

"Okay, I'll pick you up at 9 ---- Are you eating something?" Hutch couldn't help himself. Despite the fact that Starsky's appetite was back to normal again, it still wasn't wise for him to eat at irregular hours.

"Hutch! I'm not in the mood for some long distance mothering, okay? The whole point of you moving back home was that I would take care of myself again, remember?"

"Well, then **take** care of yourself! No snacking past 8 o'clock! And that's not me talking, that's Jamison's orders, so don't blame me!"

"Well, I'll talk to him about that next time I'll see him ----" Starsky answered just as adamantly.

Suddenly, both partners chuckled at the same moment.

"Oh, God, a fine pair we are!" Hutch sighed.

"Man, if this isn't a sign we've been sittin' on each other's lip way too long, I dunno what is!" Starsky added.

They laughed again, briefly.  
Then Starsky said goodbye.  
"Well, I'm gonna hit the hay. See ya, Blintz."

"Yeah. Be ready when I get there tomorrow!" Hutch admonished.

"Will do. 'Night, Hutch."

"Night, Starsk."

They both hung up.

_Sleep safe and tight, buddy-----_ Hutch thought to himself, before getting ready for bed.

\------------------------------------------------

Right on the first day of his new found independence, did the planned "drop off and pick up" schedule of the two detectives fail.

Hutch had dropped Starsky off at Memorial for his PT session with Moses, and would pick him up an hour later. But he was called on a case and had the station call to the hospital that he wouldn't be able to make it. The message was relayed to Moses, who had to visit a patient who, like Starsky when he'd first returned home, wasn't able to come in for her PT session. As he walked into the lobby of the hospital, he found Starsky waiting in one of the seats for Hutch to pick him up.

"Hey Dave. I just got a message from the station. Hutch can't pick you up cos he's tied up with a case."

Starsky looked up at Moses.  
"Okay -- uhm -- well, I'd better get me a cab, then ---." He slowly got up from the chair.  
"Man, can't wait to get behind the wheel myself, again --- " he grumbled.

Moses caught him by the arm.  
"Hey, where are you going?"

"Gonna call a cab!"

"What, am I invisible or something?" Moses said with mock indignation.

Starsky couldn't help but laugh. At 6'7", 225 pounds, Moses could hardly be overlooked.  
"What d'ya have in mind? I thought ya had another patient?"

"Yeah, I do! But she happens to live right in your neighborhood, so if you're smart, you'll hitch a ride with me!"

Starsky smiled up at his therapist, who'd become a dear friend. Together they walked to the personnel's parking lot and were ready to get into Moses' Chevy. Then Moses caught the longing look in his favorite patient's eyes. Starsky's condition had not noticeably improved for some time now, so Moses thought a nice mental boost might help his patient to get over the impasse.  
"Want some extra therapy for free?" he asked across the roof of his car.

"Hmm?" Starsky asked, awakened from his reverie.

Moses rounded the car and handed Starsky the keys, leaving the detective stunned as he looked, not understanding, from the keys in his hand, to his therapist and back.

"Try it," Moses simply said.  
"Don't worry, I'm right next to you --- nothing's gonna happen."

Starsky swallowed hard.  
"You sure?"

"Question is, are you? That's all that matters now."

Moses was clearly giving Starsky a lesson in assessing his self-confidence. Was his wish too far fetched, or was he as ready as he thought himself to be?

Starsky rounded the car with Moses on his heel. Moses adjusted the distance of the seat to the steering wheel to Starsky's size and let him get in. Then he walked back and took place in the passenger seat.  
The two men looked at each other and Moses nodded his head reassuringly at Starsky.

Starsky turned the key in the ignition and slowly but surely managed to steer the car safely off the parking lot and into the traffic.  
His heart was pounding at warp speed inside his chest, the palms of his hands were sweaty and his throat was bone dry.  
But after a few minutes a face-splitting grin covered his face, while at the same time his eyes filled up with moisture.

They drove to Starsky's apartment at a mild pace, with Moses checking the traffic in the mirrors. Starsky was still a bit too stiff and compromised to be able to drive like before, but was doing a fairly decent job.   
When they finally stopped in front of Starsky's apartment, Moses looked at Starsky.  
"I think you just passed your test, young man!"

Starsky swallowed hard. The emotions were washing over him. Another first.

"I didn't bring my camera," Moses said, as if he had read Starsky's mind,  
"--- but you've just achieved another milestone, Shirley! I wouldn't advice you to go off and drive by yourself now. You know just as well as I do that you're not ready for that yet.  
But with Hutch or someone else with a license in the passenger seat, I think it's safe to start practicing your driving skills."

"That's just terrific!" Starsky could only whisper, overcome as he was by this victory.   
Another step closer to total independence. Another step closer to being his old self again. Another step closer to being whole.

"So, how does it feel to be back behind the wheel, huh?"

"Terrific -----" was all that Starsky could say.

"Welcome home, Shirley." Moses said, while patting Starsky on the shoulder.

When Starsky enthusiastically told Hutch during dinner that night, about the new victory he had achieved, Hutch listened with mixed feelings.  
Suddenly things seemed to be moving so fast, and he wasn't sure if the last few victories were true signs that things were really improving for Starsky, or that he was just reluctant to admit his friend was finally getting better.   
But for now, he continued to push his own ambivalent feelings aside, not wanting to take away from his best friend's overwhelming joy over his achievement.

_Looks like you're really back in the driver's seat, buddy --- Just remember to drive with caution on all the drives you take in life from now on --------_


	21. PASSING ON LIFE'S LESSONS

## PASSING ON LIFE'S LESSONS

Together they drove up to the Academy, where Starsky was to deliver his speech. He had been very secretive about what he was going to say, so the speech would be as much a surprise to Hutch as it would be to all the cadets.

Hutch parked the car, as was agreed, in the staff section close to the building. Starsky was mobile enough to walk without any aid now, but still wasn't capable of covering long distances. His walk was still far removed from the bouncy swagger that was so characteristic of him. Instead he walked slower, more deliberate and still a bit unsure. Even as recently as last week he had scared the wits out of Hutch, when he fell after tripping over an uneven tile in the sidewalk.

They slowly made their way to the auditorium and sat in the front row waiting for Starsky's cue.  
When Captain Russo stepped up to the podium, Starsky knew he would be next. He slowly got up from his seat and made his way over to the steps leading up to the stage.

"And now I will introduce you to one of our former students. A man who has made a meteoric rise on the career ladder and who has been, at the age of 32, a Detective First Grade for four years already. If you have studied your schedule, you will see that that is really quite a feat to achieve that level at such a young age. We have invited Detective Starsky to tell you about the positive and the negative side of our profession and to tell us why, despite some major incidents that took place during his career to date, he is still proud to be a member of the Bay City Police Force. Please welcome Detective First Grade Sergeant David Michael Starsky."

Russo pointed in the direction where Starsky was standing. Hutch held his breath as Starsky climbed up the six steps that didn't have a banister, and slowly walked onto the stage where he shook hands with Russo before taking place behind the desk.

He looked reassuringly at Hutch and scanned the auditorium, looking out over all the young faces it held today, then cleared his throat before beginning.  
"Hi, I first would like to thank the Academy for inviting me to speak here and I wanna thank Captain Russo for his kind introduction." Starsky smiled at his audience. A mischievous smile, in the opinion of Hutch, who was wondering what to expect.

"I'm Dave Starsky. As Captain Russo just said I'm 32 and graduated here almost 12 years ago. Phew, the late sixties man!" he made a face and the cadets laughed.  
"I, uhm, I - I was actually a bit surprised to have received this, uh -- this invitation to speak here, because uh --- the **last** time I, together with my partner Detective Hutchinson -- more about **him** later -- uh --- the **last** time we were allowed to speak here we didn't quite please the crowd."

Hutch couldn't believe Starsky would mention that incident in this speech, and again with that mischievous expression on his face. He was hoping the Academy staff would have forgotten about that fiasco by now.

"Well, we **did** please the crowd, we just didn't exactly please the Academy **Staff**. More about **that** also later." There was a smirk and a clearing of the throat as he unfolded his speech and then he began reading.

"When I entered the Academy all those years ago, I was a pretty idealistic guy.   
Many people found that odd, because I was a cop's son and I should **know** better than to be idealistic from hearing my dad's real life accounts.   
Odder still, in **their** eyes was that I was idealistic **despite the fact** that I was the son of a **slain** cop.   
Now, **why **would a kid, who lost his father due to the nature of his vocation, **still** want to follow in his footsteps?   
Everyone wondered why, except me.   
In **my** mind there was, **and there still is**, no greater job than maintaining the safety and justice **of** and **for** the people. It doesn't** get** any better than that.   
My dad instilled in me a love for helping people, a love of the law that - if properly executed - really **does** bring justice, **and** he instilled in me the love and pride for a job well done.

I lost my dad when I was just a kid.   
He died in the line of duty and sure, my family would have **loved** to have had him with us for a much longer time, but besides the expected grief, his death left us a feeling of pride, for he was a man who tried to make a difference.   
He tried to make the community a safer place.   
He tried to put the bad guys where they belonged. And most of the time, he succeeded.   
I was **and still am** proud of my father's achievements, of his character that made him **choose** this profession. His 'calling'.   
And though I was **so** proud that I **chose** to follow in his footsteps, I had that undeniable 'calling' inside my own heart as well.   
Not everyone has the same 'calling'. You may think **now** you want to become a cop, but if it isn't your heart's choice, you may soon find out your destiny 'calls' you into another direction."

Starsky paused for effect.   
"I entered the Academy as an idealist.   
Young, wet behind the ears, thinkin' I knew so much about life and the way it was supposed to go --- sound familiar?"

Again the crowd laughed.

"Of course I was soon treated to a huge dose of reality.   
And it was tough, it was hard and it disillusioned me for a while.   
It didn't seem **fair** that us cops had to stick to the law perfectly and run the risk of losing a case on a formality, even when it was an open and closed clear cut case.   
It didn't seem **fair **that doing an honest and honorable job only earned you a meager paycheck, while the bad guys were drivin' their Mercedes and drinkin' their champagne.  
It didn't seem **fair** that we only had our customary light handguns, while the bad guys had automatics and all **kinds** of high powered equipment."

Hutch cringed at this passage and a light realization dawned on him that even if he had stood next to Starsky that fateful day in the police station parking lot, he wouldn't have been able to protect him. He couldn't have protected him if he had stood in front of his partner, because the bullets fired by the automatic weapons used during the assassination attempt cut through steel as if it were butter.

Starsky leaned forward on the desk and said in an almost conspiratorial tone,  
"Well, let me tell ya somethin': '**Life** isn't fair'.   
But does that mean that we should just sit back and let things happen and not try to improve on them? Of course not! When ya don't do anything to try and improve things, they never will.

**That's** why I think all those people, who enrolled into the Academy back then in the sixties when **I **enrolled and right **now **shortly before we enter another decade, I think **all **those people are on a mission.   
They want to **try** and make a difference.   
They want to **try** and make this world a better place.  
Sure, they'll do it in their own little corner of the world --- their community, their beat.   
But their presence there is already going to make a difference.  
That's why I think you have to feel a certain calling if you choose to do this job."

Starsky straightened up again and grimaced. Hutch was immediately on the alert and worried that standing for such a long period of time would be too much for Starsky, so he kept an even closer eye on his partner.

"I personally have been told I'm crazy for doing this job, for loving what I do.   
I've been told I'm crazy for running the risk of getting shot at and only bring back the modest paycheck I get each month." He grinned as his eyes surveyed the auditorium.  
"That's another myth I wanna dispel right here and now: if you're in it for the money ----" he paused and looked impishly around the auditorium as the cadets began to laugh.   
Then he continued,  
"---- **or** the glamour ----" More laughs.   
In an affected, high tone and with a big grin he continued,  
"The uniform shop is downstairs to the right. They come in shiny red, white and blue and the one's with the studs hang in the back!"  
The auditorium exploded in laughter.

He cleared his throat and continued in his own voice,  
"What I wanted to say was that if you're in it for the money, you're in the wrong place.   
Cops don't get rich. Not in a material way, anyway.   
Cops get rich because they experience life on a huge range of levels.   
They get to know life in society from all possible angles.  
Cops get rich on human experience and when they get home with their meager paychecks, they know they're rich **anyway** if only because of the simple fact that they **have** a home to come back to.   
That they **have** food on the table, a place to sleep and that they don't **need** to survive from stealing, harming and abusing **other** people or even themselves."

Starsky paused and took a sip from the glass of water on the desk, before continuing in a more serious tone.  
"So far it may sound to you, like bein' a cop is either the next best thing to heaven or the second to worst place behind hell."   
He smirked and looked at all the young faces in front of him.   
"That of course is a load of bull.   
It's an honorable job, a fulfilling job.  
And it's also a tough job, a dirty job and it's dangerous.   
There have been times that I wholeheartedly agreed with those who called me crazy for being a cop. There will be times, I can promise you that, when **you** will wonder if it's all worth it and if your being a cop will make a difference."

Again Starsky paused and inhaled deeply before saying,  
"I have lived through such moments quite a few times in my years on the force.   
Most recently just a few months back.   
About four months ago, my partner and I were ambushed in the police station parking lot down at Metro, no less. Some thugs dressed up like officers waited for us in their black and white and opened fire as we were getting into our car.   
I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and got hit by automatic weapon fire three times.  
I was told I shouldn't have survived the damage those bullets did to me.  
I was told I shouldn't have survived the emergency treatment.  
I was told I shouldn't have survived the surgery, which lasted nine hours.  
I was told I shouldn't have survived the coma I was in after that, or the cardiac arrest for that matter, which stopped my heart for fourteen minutes."

A gasp went through the auditorium and Starsky waited for the murmur to stop before saying,  
"So I almost died and probably used up some of my nine lives. But if you ask me now if it was worth it, I'd have to say 'Yes'.   
Yes it was worth it, because the only reason we were targets for such a cowardly assassination attempt was the fact that we had already **made** a difference. The shooting was the final, desperate attempt of a huge crime organization to prevent their downfall.  
My partner and I had been chipping away at the foundation of that organization and the shooting was an attempt to stop the total breakdown.   
They failed.   
And I'm proud to say that **that **case alone took out an organization responsible in the past five years for close to twenty percent of national and international organized crime, with its roots in our great US of A.  
So, it was a great success and it came at a great cost. I'm **still** rehabilitating which is why I have so much time to chat here." He grinned at the audience.  
"Am I boring ya yet?"

Laughter from the audience.

"And that's something you really have to consider, if you wanna become a cop.   
It isn't like on all those TV-cop shows. A crime is committed and solved within an hour's time, including the commercial breaks. The blood that's spilled doesn't clash with the color of the victim's jacket.   
There's no such thing as a sixty minute case.   
Cases drag on for weeks, months, sometimes even years.   
And even if you have the law on your side, you **still **may not win. You get frustrated and angry and you need to vent and share those feelings, because if there's one bad thing that you should avoid, it is becoming a frustrated cop. **That's** why partners are so important.   
A partnership is born. Ya can't make it happen, it has to happen all by itself."

"Good partners are hard to come by.   
A good partner stands **by** you, not only to cover your back while you are out on a call, but always - even after hours. A good partnership means you can read each other like a book. You **need** to. Your lives depend on each other. A single split second of miscommunication can mean injury or worse. A good partner is a protector, a sounding board. He balances the scale in a partnership. He's a friend.  
I have been very lucky in finding a partner who fills all the gaps I can't fill. We're each other's opposites, many people will tell you, but the magic of a good partnership is that opposites make a great whole. Where one partner may fall short, the other may excel. You have to be totally in tune with your partner and I'm very lucky to know that we **are that**, to perfection.  
My partner, Detective First Grade Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson, has been my protector, my sounding board, my balance and my friend in a partnership that has lasted over eight years now.  
He saved my life on many occasions and he's saved my sanity several times, too. I wouldn't have been able to get through my current rehabilitation if it weren't for his constant support and encouragement. Sure he can be a pain in the a---- in the you know what from time to time, but he'll probably say the same about me.  
Of course **he **\--- is wrong."

Laughter from the cadets and Hutch shook his head and inconspicuously tried to wipe the moisture from his eyes that Starsky's words had put there.

"Now I'll come back to my feelings of surprise when I learned I was invited to speak to you here at the Academy. It has to do with my partner, although I might be partly to blame as well.  
Some time ago, both my partner and I were invited to speak here to an audience of cadets, much like yourselves, and we had the nerve, or so the Academy Staff thought, to tell them to forget everything they'd learned here."

The cadets again laughed out loud, some of them even cheered. Starsky waited for them to calm down, a grin on his face and a wink for Hutch who looked up at him with an expression that said 'What the hell are you doing?'

"What we meant by saying that, is that life cannot be learned from a manual.   
You can read **all** the books ya want, like Psychology 101. Is **that** still used here?  
Anyway, nothing, no lecture, no book will prepare you sufficiently for what you meet out on the streets in real life. There's only so many situations you will recognize from your textbooks.   
Real life will throw you for a loop, or it will **try **to anyway.   
But as long as you've got your head screwed on right, and you have - like **I** do - the benefit of a fantastic partner, you will make it. You will make it in your own life and in doing so you will be able to make a difference in the lives of others as well. I'm **not** saying you can become a cop without the academics. I'm **just** sayin' that your books are not holy, they're not the bible. It takes **more** than just your head and all the facts stored in it to make you a cop. It also takes a heart and compassion, interest in the lives of others and a desire to make a difference. In short 'a calling' that will make you a good cop.  
So I hope you will look inside yourselves and check to see if you have that 'calling'. If you do, you'll make one helluva cop and that's exactly what society needs.  
Thank you for listening, for your patience, and whatever the calling is that you find inside yourself, if you follow that calling you **will** succeed.  
Thank you."

A thunderous applause rose and Starsky even received a standing ovation. Hutch was bursting with pride for his partner as he watched how Starsky was being congratulated and thanked by senior members of the Academy Staff. He could also see that standing for the duration of his long speech had tired Starsky considerably and so he walked toward the steps by the side of the stage to assist Starsky, in case he needed it.  
Starsky walked down the steps by himself but gratefully accepted Hutch's support when he walked back to his seat. He was gratified that his speech had been received with such great appreciation, but he was sore and highly uncomfortable from being on the stage for such a long period of time.

After the remainder of the program was finished many cadets came to shake Starsky's hand personally as did many of the instructors at the Academy.  
Finally the day was over and Hutch supported a wavering Starsky back to the car and carefully helped him get settled in the passenger seat.  
Once behind the wheel Hutch looked over and said,  
"You sneaky devil! That was one helluva speech, Starsk. How long did you work on it?"

Looking worn but satisfied Starsky turned to face his partner with a smile.  
"Two days. Ya really liked it?"

"Liked it? It was perfect! You may even run a risk of getting invited as a regular now."

Starsky snorted.  
"Yeah, right."  
He sighed.  
"I just want these kids to know what they're gettin' into, ya know? They're the next generation."

"Yeah, imagine that," Hutch smirked.

"Ya know, when Russo said my age out loud it just hit me. My dad was only five years older than I am now, when he died. And he already had two kids. I was eleven and Nicky was seven. And here I am. 32, no wife, no kids, fucked up body."

Hutch worriedly glanced at Starsky, afraid his buddy was going to plunge into a deep depression. He waited in tense anticipation for what would come next.

"Maybe it is better this way. Maybe there's a reason why you and me don't hit the jackpot with the ladies, the way my dad did with my mom. Maybe that works better for us instead of one day perhaps leaving a grieving family behind."

"You think?" Hutch carefully probed.

A long pause followed before Starsky turned to Hutch, his face again covered in that mischievous smile,  
"Sure, Me and Thee it is. Though ya better shave off that cookie duster before we head for the altar."

"Moron!" Hutch chuckled as he lightly hit Starsky on the head before starting the car. They both laughed some more but by the time Hutch had left the campus grounds and joined the other traffic, Starsky was sound asleep next to him.

"Me and Thee. You better believe it, Gordo!" Hutch whispered and steered the car back to Starsky's apartment.

THE END  
(Next story in this series "Friends First")


End file.
